


A Matter of Sense

by LdyBug88



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men: First Class - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Charles Is a Darling, Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Charles is a Professor, Erik is Crushing Harder than a 12-year Old Girl, Erik owns a restaurant, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, epidemic, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-28 13:12:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7641778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyBug88/pseuds/LdyBug88
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr owns a restaurant where he works as head chef. Charles Xavier is a Professor, but only some times, and a Geneticist who occasionally consults on cases at the hospital with Hank McCoy, his friend and brother-in-law. Charles's sister, Raven, is forever trying to set him up and tries again, this time with her boss and friend, Erik. But when a new patient of Hank's requires Charles to consult, things change in a way none of them expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the movie Perfect Sense. Disclaimer: I own neither X-Men nor Perfect Sense and have written this only because I wanted to see how Charles and Erik would fit into that world.

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

* * *

  _ **The world, as we imagine it, is full of light and darkness. It is full of warmth and chill, laughter and tears. There's food, restaurants. Men and women. Work. There's always work. Traffic. Love. Hate. Disease. Life. A life remembered, a life imagined, a life being lived. We never know the true measure of a life until it changes, then we wonder how it is that we never truly appreciated the beauty that surrounded us before. We adapt, because that's what humans do. Our new life becomes our new reality, and life goes on.**_

* * *

 


	2. Part One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Perfect Sense.
> 
> I'll post the next chapter tomorrow!

* * *

SMELL

* * *

The day starts out just like any other beautiful, sunny summer day.

Erik Lehnsherr wakes up mid-morning, goes on his morning run, takes a hot shower, and makes a quick breakfast of scrambled eggs and bacon. He glances down at his phone, not surprised to find several angry texts from Sebastian mixed in among the ones from Emma and Raven. He can’t blame the man, not really. He hadn’t intended their…relationship to last as long as it had when all he had initially wanted was someone he could go to when he needed to release tension. He’s too busy to focus on a relationship right now and Sebastian hadn’t taken it very well when he asked the man to leave after sex last night because he didn’t like sleeping with someone else in his bed. Sebastian had then demanded Erik either spend more time with him or no time at all, telling him that they would have to address his intimacy issues later should the man choose correctly. It had been an easy enough ultimatum to respond to, but he did receive a bruised eye for it. He deleted the messages and continued his morning.

His drive to work is always the same. He rides his motorcycle from his house in the suburbs into the city, enjoying the play of the sun on the glass and metal of the buildings. It makes everything glow. He enjoys the slight chill from the night still clinging to its last before the sun banishes it in favor of warmth and light. He tunes out the noise of people honking and blaring their way through their commutes. He always makes it to the restaurant by 10am to open the kitchen. His kitchen staff will get in by 10:30 to start lunch preparations, and the wait staff and host or hostess will get in at the same time to prepare. The restaurant opens by 11 to a steady stream of customers. It’ll continue on until 3, when there will be an hour and a half of dinner preparation before the early bird dinner starts at 4:30. Erik loves the challenge involved in running the restaurant. He loves cooking, and had hired a manager, Emma Frost, to handle the business side of the restaurant so he would be able to run the kitchen. He hates mingling with the customers, but it was a necessary evil at times. Lunch is one of those times.

* * *

It’s a normal morning for Charles Xavier. He wakes up in a rush, to an alarm that’s been going off for at least half an hour, more likely an hour. He always manages to sleep through it. Always. He rushes through a shower and barely manages to dress himself correctly, only having to redo his shirt buttons once, before leaving his apartment. His apartment is, luckily, located not too far from campus, so he doesn’t have too far to go to get to class. His students are not the least bit surprised when he stumbles in a minute before class is supposed to begin. He knows his hair is sticking up and that he must look like a crazy person, but his students are more than familiar with his eccentricities, so it’s just another of those things that get chalked up to his absent-minded professor persona. Charles has been teaching genetics here for years, and the first class of his day is always his Advanced Genetics class, which was done for this particular reason. They’ve had years to get used to him and all his quirks. It definitely helps that they tend to find him more endearing than annoying, but few can find it in them to class him as annoying. Charles Xavier is a man of passion and knowledge, and it’s constantly bubbling out of him. His greatest passion is passing along his own knowledge to thirsty young minds, letting them determine what to do with it once they have it.

His morning classes go on as usual. It’s only when his friend, and brother-in-law, Hank McCoy comes to see him that his day changes. Hank comes in at the end of his Genetics 101 course, leaning against the doorjamb until the last of his students has gone. Charles is packing his briefcase, but hasn’t yet turned to face his friend. It’s only when he’s finished that he turns around, “Good morning, Hank. I wasn’t expecting you today.”

Hank nods once, standing straight to walk over to Charles. Hank stands tall at 6 feet 3 inches, looming over Charles’s own 5 feet 7 inches, so the shorter man has to tilt his head to maintain eye contact. He knows Hank doesn’t do it as a means of intimidation, like many people have over the years, but that the man just doesn’t really know it could be taken that way. Hank speaks only when he’s close enough to do so softly, not wanting their conversation to be overheard, “I know, I apologize for just showing up, but I have a case I’d like you to consult on.”

“Oh?” Charles finds himself intrigued. It isn’t usual for Hank to invite him to consult on one of his patients. His brother-in-law tends to work rather well on his own, only coming to Charles when the other man can’t find anything or if it was related to genetics. Charles is almost excited to know what sort of case Hank has brought to him, “What’s the case?”

“Can I take you to lunch first?” Hank asks, his cheeks flushing, “I told Raven I’d try to get you by the restaurant before going to the hospital. The patient is in tests all this morning anyway, so we can’t get in to see him yet.”

Charles laughs, “She’s having you blackmail me into seeing her? That’s definitely Raven.”

“I just think she hated the idea that I’d see you and she wouldn’t,” Hank admits with a wry grin, “But will you come?”

“Alright,” Charles agrees, making his way to the door, “I haven’t been by the restaurant yet, and she has been pestering me about it. Maybe you can give me a little background on the case over lunch?”

Hank hesitates, “I don’t know that I want to get into any details over lunch.”

“That bad, is it?” Charles feels his interest pique even more and tries to keep his excitement back. It was never very nice to get excited over someone else’s problems.

“Yes, well,” Hank pauses, and it seems like he’s trying to figure out how to phrase what’s going on in his mind, or maybe trying to figure out what’s alright to say in public, “no, not really, but I don’t want to discuss it in public. We don’t know if what’s going on is the result of a virus, bacteria, genetic condition. Charles, we really just have no idea what’s going on with the man. If we say too much out in public, we’re concerned that there’ll be a panic. That’s why I’d like your eyes on it. Maybe you’ll see something we’ve missed.”

“Hank,” Charles stops walking, putting a hand on Hanks arm to halt him, “You said ‘we’. How many doctors have you consulted with on this?”

“There’s a team of us assigned this case, Charles,” Hank’s eyes grow wide, “I’m on it as a medical doctor, but also geneticist, but we’ve also got an epidemiologist, pathologist, and virologist on this. It’s nothing any of us have ever seen. To be honest, it’s a little…off putting to think that none of us have seen something like this before.”

Charles looks at Hank with wide eyes, almost frightened at the implications, “Hank…”

“I know,” the other man tells him, “We don’t know if it’s contagious, so we have the man in quarantine and everyone who actually goes into the room has to wear a full suit. We have an observation area off the room so we can communicate with him without having to go inside, but we’re all at a loss. You’re leaps and bounds ahead of me in genetics, so I figured I’d bring you in as a last effort at consults. Next steps are going to be trying to isolate any cells that could be causing this, or even if we can see if cells are affected by this. And there’s a second case.”

“Are they related? Have they interacted? Or are they completely separate cases?” Charles can’t stop himself from spouting off questions.

Hank shakes his head, “We can’t talk about it here, Charles.”

They’re still standing just inside the classroom, and Charles agrees, knowing Hank is right, and if what he’s saying is true, they definitely don’t want to start a panic, “Alright, so, we get lunch first, then go straight to the hospital so I can see what’s going on.”

Hank nods, “I really hope you can see something obvious we’re all missing, Charles.”

“From the sounds of it, I hope so too,” Charles replies before walking out of the room, locking the door behind him when Hank follows him, “Now, how do we get to the restaurant? Do you have directions?”

Hank glances sideways at him, a small smirk quirking his lips up, “Seriously, Charles? Raven has the car, we’re taking a cab. Also, it’s literally right next to your apartment, so we could walk if we wanted to. Not this time, though, I think.”

“Wonderful,” Charles laughs. Neither man has a car, have never felt the need for one, so they rely either on public transportation or cabs, “Cab it is then. Have you already called one?”

“Yeah, it’s right out front waiting,” Hank steers him in the right direction.

“Perfect. Now, what’s the name of the restaurant again?”

* * *

“Welcome to Magneto’s. Table for two?”

Hank and Charles stand inside the small, but beautiful little restaurant where Charles’s sister, Raven, now works as head pastry chef. Charles is too busy looking around to answer, but Hank nods at the hostess, tapping Charles on the arm when she starts leading the way to a table. He follows absently, his eyes focusing on the atmosphere and décor. This is more than just a quaint little restaurant. There’s something homey about it. It is right next to his apartment, too. He’s surprised Raven hasn’t mentioned that before. The alley at the back entrance to his apartment building is the same alley attached to the back of the restaurant, he imagines. Charles sits down at the table the hostess indicates, but stops her before she can walk away, “Could you please let Raven McCoy know that Charles and Hank are here?”

The hostess nods with a smile, already familiar with Hank, “Of course, sir. I’ll let her know right away.”

“Thank you,” he smiles brightly at her, not paying any attention at the wide-eyed look she gives him in return. When she walks away, he turns back to Hank to discuss one of the articles in a journal they both subscribe to.

* * *

“Raven?”

Erik looks up when the lunchtime hostess, Angel, calls for his pastry chef from the kitchen entryway. He glances over at Raven, who is also a good friend, to find that she hasn’t even looked up from filling her puff pastries. He knows she’s working with some of her delicious hand-whipped cream and doesn’t want it to lose it’s peaks. She just makes a sort of questioning noise while she continues to work.

“Give her a moment, please, Angel,” Erik tells the hostess, “I believe she only has a few shells left to fill.”

Angel nods and waits until Raven finally looks up from her a few minutes later. She smiles at the almost dazed look on the chef’s face, “There are two men here to see you. Your hubby and a shorter, gorgeous thing. The short one said to let you know that-”

Raven cut her off with a screech, making Erik wince and stop his own work, “Oh my God! Hank did it! He managed to drag Charles here!”

She looks over at Erik, a huge grin on her face that he can’t help but smile back at, telling him, “You’ve met my husband, Hank.”

He nods, still confused, but she continues without more input from him, “Well, I asked if he’d try to bring my brother, Charles, with him for lunch since Charles hasn’t been able to make it yet on his own, and I know he’d probably just grab something from a vending machine for lunch if he got anything at all, so I figured this way would kill two birds with one stone. Now I know he won’t be starving himself out of forgetfulness.”

Raven widens her eyes and clasps her hands together, pleading and trying to look innocent, “Erik, please come meet my brother? I think you’ll like him.”

Erik narrows his eyes in suspicion, knowing exactly what’s going on now, “Raven, are you trying to set me up with your brother?”

“No?” She tries puppy eyes on him.

Erik rolls his eyes, knowing that’s probably exactly what she meant to do, “I don’t have time for this.”

“Meeting him or meeting him, falling in love, wanting to marry him and have his babies?” Raven asks, hands on her hips.  
His mouth drops, and for a few seconds he can’t find anything to say, but he just shakes his head and goes back to cutting the fat from the beef strips he was working with before this conversation started. He can feel Raven’s eyes on him and lets out a heavy sigh, “Fine. I’ll come with you to meet him.”

Raven lets out a little cheer, making the others in the kitchen snicker. That stops as soon as Erik looks around with a hard glare and snaps, “Back to work, or do none of you have anything you should be doing?.”

He walks over to his assistant chef, Azazel, and hands him his knife, “You’re in charge of the kitchen until I return.”

Azazel nods gravely and walks over to the station Erik had been at to work on the beef again, his lips tilting up minutely at the corner, “Go get your man, chef.”

Erik glares hard at his second, but otherwise ignores it as he glances around one more time to make sure everyone is working before following Raven out of the kitchen. He absently wipes his hands on his apron, hoping he doesn’t look too horrible, but then remembers that he isn’t supposed to care. Angel walks them over to the table where Hank and Charles are waiting. He sees Hank first, who stands to greet his wife with a hug and a chaste kiss. Hank nods to him as he says hello, but by that point, Erik’s attention is on the other man. Charles. He’s almost floored by the genuineness and beauty of the man’s smile as he hugs his sister tight. Raven refuses to let him go for a minute, but when she does, she keeps an arm around his waist as he keeps an arm across her shoulders. She turns to Erik, ignoring how his eyes are glued to the man at her side, “Charles, this is Erik Lehnsherr. He owns the restaurant and is our head chef. Erik, this is my brother Charles Xavier. Charles is a professor of genetics and overall best brother ever.”

Charles rolls his eyes, “Yes, thank you for that, Raven. Completely unbiased sample, I think.”

When Charles turns to him, Erik can almost believe he’s drowning. He briefly remembers hearing his mother talk about how she met his father and how it felt, and he knows she would have loved this sort of meet-cute. The shorter man’s eyes burn with such emotion that it shines bright in his blue eyes, making them almost an impossible shade of blue. His voice has a gentle lilt, which only briefly confuses him before he refocuses on what’s important. Those eyes. It takes him a few seconds and a nudge from Raven to realize that those bright blue eyes are now shining with amusement. Erik realizes it’s because Charles has extended a hand and Erik has just been staring. He mentally slaps himself and takes Charles’s still offered hand.

“Apologies,” Erik mutters, trying to make his eyes look anywhere else, but stops when the second place he looks is the good Professor’s very plush, nearly cherry red lips. His eyes immediately jump back to those gorgeous, still amused, blue eyes.

“That’s quite alright,” Charles assures him, hand still clasped within his, “Though I will need that back, soon I should think. Would be better if I were left-handed, or ambidextrous, then I think you could probably keep hold for a while.”

Erik releases his hand as if it had burned him, “I seem to be spacing out a lot today.”

He sees the amusement in Raven’s eyes and knows that, at least, she doesn’t believe him, but Charles seems to be a good man already as he just nods, accepting it as an excuse. He starts to turn to leave, but that gentle voice stops him, “Are you not joining us for lunch?”

Erik knows he has to be looking at the man as if he was someone overtaken by a fit of insanity. Raven grins. It’s all a bit terrifying.

“I mean, you don’t have to, obviously,” Charles backtracks quickly, a blush highlighting his cheeks, “I’m sure you have better things to do.”

It’s adorable.

Erik sits down almost immediately, “No. I mean, I’ve left Azazel in charge for now. I think I can manage a quick lunch myself.”

Charles smiles so brightly it could have powered the city, at least, “Brilliant.”

They stare at each other for another few moments before Raven cleares her throat and sits down as well, Hank following suit. He finds it strange that hadn’t realized Hank is still here. He knows he’s being ridiculous, and he knows that he truly doesn’t want to commit the time necessary for a relationship right now, not when the restaurant is going so well and a critic is supposed to come in next week, but there’s something about Charles that makes him want to know as much as he can about the man. He subtly, in his mind at least, leans in closer, ignoring the amused look Raven sends him before turning her attention to the menu. Charles is looking at the menu now, and he feels almost bereft. When the man’s attention is on him, it almost feels like being in the sun. This could be dangerous for his mental health.

“What are you thinking?” Charles asks him, glancing up at him from beneath his lashes.

“I…what?” Erik’s eyes widen.

“For lunch,” Charles expands, the slight smirk tilting his lips at the corner making Erik think he knows exactly what he’s doing,

“What are you thinking for lunch? Anything you’d recommend?”

“Oh,” Erik releases a breath, then grins. Food. He can definitely talk food.

* * *

Charles thinks Erik is absolutely adorable. The man is talking about some of the menu items and Charles just can’t help the grin tugging at his lips. The man certainly knows what he’s talking about when it comes to food, and his accent is almost harshly German, which he enjoys immensely. He’s also the most adorable thing Charles has seen in a while. He knows the effect he can have on people, but this is more than just passing attention. He hopes Erik will do more than just look at some point, hopefully in the near future. Maybe the man will bring himself to ask him on a date. He can only hope. He knows he wants to know more about this man. He wants to know everything. He exchanges glances with Raven. She had done this on purpose. She’s constantly trying to set him up with men she knows. The last few times hadn’t worked out so well. He tries to forget what happened when she tried to set him up with Logan. That had probably been the worst. The man was overly controlling and had hit him once. That had been it. Normally, he would have been upset with Raven for doing this, but, as it was, he decides to give it a try. After all, it’s been a long time since he’s felt this way just from someone’s attention.

“I think maybe the steak salad might be a good choice, though, if you want something a little lighter,” Erik finishes, then blushes, “I was talking a lot. I apologize.”

“No,” Charles protests, testing the waters by reaching his hand out to rest on Erik’s as he fiddles with the silverware on his place setting, “Everything sounds marvelous, but I do think it’s a bit of a lighter day. The steak salad sounds perfect.”

Erik grins, turning his hand over to hold Charles’s hand, and Charles holds back a grin at how nonchalant he tries to be about it, “Great. Let me just-”

“No!” Raven blurts and all three men turn to her, Erik and Charles immediately drop their hands, stunned at her outburst, “I just mean…Erik, you’re supposed to be having lunch, not taking orders to the kitchen. Kitty will be back soon with our waters.”

“Kitty?” Erik and Charles both ask, in unison, trading shy smiles before turning back to Raven.

She chuckles, “Yeah, Kitty came by earlier, she’s our server? She went to get us waters since you guys were so into your conversation. Hank and I are ready though, so when she comes back we can give her our order.”

“Excellent,” Charles says, clearing his throat.

Erik looks around for their server, but Charles thinks he might be avoiding eye contact. Erik sits up straighter as a young woman approaches the table and starts passing out glasses of water, “Kitty. Thank you.”

“No problem, boss,” she winks, making Erik flush a bit, then turns to face the rest of the table, “You folks ready to order?”

The rest of lunch flies by. No one says much of anything after they receive their meals. Everyone just enjoys the food in front of them. Unfortunately, Raven and Erik have to rush off at the end, so they all say a quick goodbye before Hank and Charles leave the restaurant. He and Erik hadn’t gotten a chance to talk more, so Charles hopes Erik might ask Raven about him, or, better yet, for his number.

“So, we can go to my office at the hospital to give you some time with the patient’s file before we go to see him?” Hank asks as he tries to hail a cab.

Charles starts, realizing that he was so lost in thought that he missed being led to the curb, “Er, yes, that sounds good. You can give me more of your impressions once we get there. What of the second patient?”

Hank doesn’t answer as a cab pulls over for them. Hank opens the door, grinning as he gestures at Charles, “I’ll tell you more at the hospital. For now, you’re shorter than me, so you should slide.”

“Wanker,” Charles says over his shoulder with a laugh as he does exactly that.

They share brief chit chat during the relatively short ride to the hospital, talking about Raven, and Kurt, their son, who is just starting kindergarten. Once at the hospital, though, it’s all business. They arrive at Hank’s office and the taller man immediately reaches for the patient file he had obviously set to the side for review, handing it to Charles. Charles takes a few minutes to review the information. The patient had been brought in by his wife. There’s a statement from her, typed, describing the events that brought them to the hospital. He reads her accounting.

> _Scott called me when he was on his way home from work, he’s a truck driver and was just coming off shift. Anyway, he called me and he was crying, and not gently crying, but crying really hard. He started talking about how he regrets so much and how he didn’t understand the meaning of life anymore. Scott isn’t like that. He loves life. He loves his job. He loves me. But there he was, crying like his heart was breaking. I convinced him to pull off to the side of the road until he had things under control again. I just wanted him to be safe, you know? It took him a few minutes, but eventually he said he was feeling better. Said he was fine. I told him that we should come in to see the doctor, because that’s not like him. I thought something had to be wrong. We waited, though, because he wanted to make sure he had everything under control again, so we waiting until the next morning, this morning, to come in. Then it got even weirder. I made breakfast, pancakes and bacon, his favorite, and I thought the smell of the bacon would bring him in, but he never came in, so I went up to get him and asked why didn’t he come down? Didn’t he smell the bacon? And that’s when he just looked at me and told me he couldn’t smell anything. He didn’t have a stuffy nose or anything, but he just couldn’t smell. Then we came here._

Charles looks up to see Hank watching him, “So, Scott…Summers…he came in because he couldn’t smell?”

“That’s right,” Hank nods, then brings up a second file, handing it to Charles, “and this is his wife’s file.”

“His wife?” Charles opens the folder. Jean Grey. Her file has her being admitted to the psychiatric ward due to a fit of depression and suicidal ideation. There’s a firsthand account in there as well, from one of the nurses from the floor.

> _Mrs. Grey came in with her husband, who was being admitted for further observation. We were taking him to his room when she started crying. She was talking about the deaths of her parents and twin in a fire and said that she should have died too, that everything would be better if she were dead. She started talking about how she would kill herself. I had to administer a sedative to calm her enough to get her on a gurney._

Charles absently runs a hand through his hair, “She suffered a similiar depressive episode as her husband?”

Hank nods, “Yeah, and I found out this morning that she, also, can’t smell anything now.”

“This is why there’s a team,” Charles states with a nod, “The epidemiologist makes sense now, as do the others. Have you come across any news of the same or similar episodes elsewhere?”

“Yeah,” Hank runs a hand over his face, “Yeah, we have. They were slow to come in at first, but now it’s like an avalanche. No one knows what’s going on, but it seems like the depressive episode is a warning sign for losing your sense of smell.”

“Can we talk to Mr. Summers?”

“He and his wife are in quarantine rooms next to each other, so we can talk to both of them if you need to,” Hank stands and leads the way to his patients. When they get to the observation room, Charles and Hank are separated from Mr. Summers by a large window. The observation room is a small, closet-sized room that’s half-filled by monitors and machines recording everything in the quarantine room. Through the glass is the quarantine room in all its stark simplicity. Mr. Summers is sitting on a white bed, staring at them through the glass. He immediately stands up and walks toward the glass when he sees that the room is now occupied. Charles smiles, hoping it’s as reassuring as he wants it to be, “Hello, Mr. Summers. My name is Charles Xavier. I think you know Dr. McCoy?”

Summers nods, and waves awkwardly, “Yeah, hi Dr. McCoy, Dr. Xavier.”

“Please, call me Charles,” he insists right away. He hates being called Doctor, even in this setting, “Do you mind if I call you Scott? Or do you prefer ‘Mr. Summers’?”

“Scott’s fine,” Summers agrees, moving back to lean against the bed, “Do you have any more information? Are you here to tell me what’s going on? Where’s my wife?”

“First I’d like to confirm what I’ve read, if that’s alright? And then I have a couple more questions to ask to clarify some things,” Charles explains, waiting for Scott’s nod before going on, “So, straight to the point then. Your chart says you can no longer smell. Is that correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Scott confirms, “It’s really strange.”

“Is your mood back to normal?”

Scott glares, “I’ve been stuck in here since yesterday, and I haven’t seen my wife since I was moved here, but I heard Jean has the same…symptoms as I did. I think my mood is-”

“What I meant to ask is if there’s no discomfort other than the lack of smell?” Charles stops the other man before he can get a good rant going, “That is, I want to confirm that lack of smell is the only lasting effect. Have you had any more depressive episodes? Does your nose feel stuffy? Are your allergies acting up? Things like that.”

“Oh,” Scott grumbles as he looks down before turning back to Charles, shaking his head, “No, it’s just the smell thing.”

“Has anyone in your family had similar experiences?”

“No,” Scott says immediately, but then stops and seems to consider, “I mean, not that I know of?”

“What about any of your friends? Do you know anyone else who has exhibited the same symptoms?”

“Other than my wife, you mean?” Scott demands, his voice turning hostile, “No. She's the only one I know of. What the hell else do you want before I’ll be able to see her again? What’s going on here? Where is she?”

“I’m a geneticist, Scott,” Charles explains, “I’m here to determine if there are any possible genetic conditions that could be affecting your olfactory system.”

“Then why’s Dr. McCoy here?” The other man demands, “Why have so many of you been in and out of here? You don’t know what’s going on, do you?”

“You and your wife are not the only cases, Scott,” Hank tells him, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, “We need to find out what’s going on as quickly as possible, and that means bringing in a variety of specialists who can help us figure out what’s going on. At this point, we don’t have anything definitive to tell you.”

Scott deflates again and flops back on the bed. Charles immediately reaches over and silences the audio to the room so he can talk freely with Hank, “How many other cases are there, Hank?”

“I’ve heard from Boston, DC, Los Angeles, Miami, Dallas, and a few others,” Hank tells him, sounding weary, “So far, I’d say there’s over 500 here in the U.S., but I’ve also heard about cases in England, Germany, Spain. They’ve all appeared in the last 24 hours.”

Charles can’t stop his disbelief from showing, “Bloody hell.”

“Your British is showing, Charles,” Hank’s smile is strained as he tries to lighten the mood.

“If there are so many cases, why bring me in? You know the odds are more in favor of an infection, or virus. Some contagion. How are they getting infected?” Charles questions.

“We don’t think they are.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Hank leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest, “There’s nothing connecting any of these cases. A genetic link was our last flimsy straw to grab at. We didn’t really think you’d find anything, but want you to consult with us, if you will. We’re going to be spending a lot of time in the lab, checking samples. We need all the help we can get. At this point, any new idea is better than none at all.”

“There’s been no contact between any of the patients? None?” Charles can’t help but question.

“None,” Hank confirms, “We’re hoping it’ll go away on its own, because we’ve found nothing.”

“So we’re going to go with ‘don’t panic’?” Charles asks, mirroring Hank’s position.

“That’s pretty much all we’ve got right now.”

* * *

“Soooo…”

Erik had managed to avoid Raven for the better part of the afternoon service, so he’s not overly surprised that she finally manages to corner him during the dinner rush. He barely spares a glance at her as he continues sautéing the beef and mushrooms in his pan, “Yes? How may I help you?”

Raven huffs, crossing her arms, “Charles.”

He manages to not drop the plate he was pushing the beef onto, just barely, “Your brother. Yes. What about him?”

“You’re going to play that game?” She scoffs, “Erik, I have eyes. I saw you at lunch. You were practically ravishing him on the table.”

Erik’s eyes widen and this time he does drop the plate, but it’s only an inch above the counter, so it’s fine, “I was not.”

“Please,” she tells him, smirk growing as she hands the plate off to one of the servers, “You couldn’t take your eyes off him. I’m surprised you managed to keep your hands away. Oh wait. You held hands on the table.”

He feels his cheeks heat up and knows Raven sees it, “It was nothing.”

Her eyes narrow, “Would you tell my brother that holding his hand was nothing? That all the eye sex was nothing?”

“Eye sex?” He blurts before he can stop it, quickly moving to the fish station.

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes, moving aside as more wait staff grab plates, “Eye sex. You couldn’t keep your eyes off each other. If babies could come from it, you two would have a litter. It wasn’t just you. Charles is guilty of it too. I could tell he likes you.”

“He does?” Erik feels lighter, knowing his interest might be reciprocated.

Before Raven can answer, Ororo, one of the cooks in training, comes over holding a sea bass, “How is this one, Chef?”

“Did you smell it?” He raises a brow. Training sometimes meant letting them learn the hard way. If she insists on going through with cooking that particular fish, he knows he’ll have to cook another and hold that one back.  
Ororo shakes her head. He gives her a hard look, “You should always smell it first. You can tell a great deal about a food if you smell it. Is it fresh? What type of fish? Sometimes even where it came from.”

She leans down a bit as she brings the fish closer to her nose, “It smells…fishy?”

Raven hides a snicker behind her hand as Erik rolls his eyes, “Yes, alright. It smells fishy?”

“Yes?”

“What type of fish is it?” He demands.

“Sea bass, chef,” Ororo answers quickly.

“Is it fresh?”

Ororo looks at him suspiciously, “Y-no? No.”

“That’s correct,” he tells her with a smile that quickly turns into what Raven calls his shark grin, “Can you tell me why?”

“Because it smelled fishy?”

“Are you asking me, or telling me?” He asks with amusement.

“Telling, Chef,” Ororo says with a tip of her head.

“What should it smell like?”

“I…I don’t know,” the woman replies, downcast, “I’m sorry I’ve failed.”

“That’s alright,” he reassures her, “but you’ll remember next time and every time after that. It should smell like the sea. That’s when you know it’s fresh. For now, get me a new one, fresh this time.”

The noises around them come back into focus now that they’ve finished their discussion and Ororo rushes away to correct her mistake. Erik turns back to Raven to ask more about how she knows Charles feels the same, but she’s already rushed back to the pastry station. He sighs, but also goes back to work. Maybe, if he remembers to ask later, Raven will give him Charles’s phone number. He hadn’t gotten it from the man earlier, there hadn't been an opportunity.

It isn’t until later, when he’s driving home in the early hours of the morning, that he realizes he forgot to ask.

* * *

Charles sits next to Hank at the conference room table, around which the other members of the group sit as well to discuss the issue at hand.

“So, we’ve compared all of the existing cases,” Hank leads, gesturing to the many files on the table, “Thanks to everyone for spending so much time on this. I know it’s been a long week, but we need to hammer this out. So what do we know?”

The first to speak is the virologist, Dr. Armando Munoz, “Nothing matches any kind of virus we know of. To that, I can’t even find anything to match to. There’s nothing abnormal present. Maybe if we can test someone in the throes of the depressive episode, we might be able to gather more samples, but there’s nothing abnormal once the sense of smell is gone.”

Dr. Moira MacTaggert, the epidemiologist, speaks next, “There are no mutating proteins, no prions, nothing. All we know is that it’s spreading at an alarming rate.”

The pathologist, Dr. Alex Summers, who’s younger brother is their original patient, rests his head in his hands, “Moira’s right. It is spreading, but it’s not obviously contagious. How is it spreading?”

“It could be environmental, an unknown toxin,” Charles offers.

“It could be terrorism,” Alex counters with a snort, “It could be anything.”

Hank sighs, “Okay, so, the best we can come up with so far is that it’s probably not a contagion.”

“I think,” Moira begins, pausing momentarily before continuing, “the best we can do is tell them it’ll disappear in a while, that no one should panic.”

* * *

**_People are overcome with grief, regretful over lost loves, missed loves, family losses. They're hit with all they’ve lost and all they've never had. They think of everyone they’ve hurt. Everyone who’s hurt them. It’s an assault on their memories. All the pain of loss come to bear. It overwhelms them. All they can do is feel. And then…the loss of smell. That’s how the disease works._ **

* * *

“They’re calling it Severe Olfactory Syndrome,” Charles tells the group, again assembled around the conference table, “The message going out is that it is cause for concern and heightened alert, but not alarm. They still say it isn’t contagious, but I doubt anyone is listening to that anymore.”

“Of course they’re not listening,” Armando says, “Not when all they see is more and more friends and neighbors losing to this disease.”

“All we can do is keep trying to find a connection, to find out what’s changing and how,” Hank suggests, “We need to keep working.”

* * *

The restaurant is almost dead. There are only two couples dining in. When they first heard about Severe Olfactory Syndrome there had been some concern as to what would happen with the restaurant, but no one on staff has come down with it yet, which is lucky for them. So far. It’s almost strange that everyone is in high spirits when there’s an epidemic like this. The nature of it was as baffling as its origin. No one has announced where it came from or how it’s spreading. It’s a great mystery.  
Emma is hanging around the kitchen, chatting with everyone while they practice a few new recipes out of boredom and need to do something. She hasn’t yet made her way to Erik, but he can tell she’s just working her way to it. The past few weeks, he’s been preoccupied with thinking about Charles. He hadn’t asked Raven for his number, but only because a week had gone by before he thought of it again. He thinks, at least twice a day, of asking Raven if her brother will be coming by any time soon, but he always stops himself. He doesn’t want to come across as desperate. He also knows that there are more important things going on in the world. SOS has been spreading steadily and people have been trying to figure out how to live.

“Erik!”

He turns around to see Raven grinning at him, “What?”

“Charles just called,” she teases with a smirk, “He’s finally gotten a break from work and I convinced him to come by for dinner. I told him to go around back in case he gets here after we’ve locked up.”

“Oh,” Erik tries for uninterested, nonchalant, but he knows he didn’t play it off, “so he’s been working?”  
Raven lets him have it this time, but he can tell she knows it was forced by the twinkle in her eyes, “Yeah, he’s been consulting with Hank and his team on SOS.”

“Oh.”

Erik isn’t sure what else to say, so he turns back to his station. It isn’t long before Emma makes her way around to him. She gives him hell for hearing about what Raven has dubbed his “massive crush” from someone other than him. He hopes she doesn’t stick around when Charles gets here. The last thing he needs is for her to start telling Charles embarrassing stories about him. It’s another hour before he makes the decision to shut down. Their last customers have gone, and Charles still hasn’t shown up. The staff had just finished cleaning and he encourages everyone go home. Azazel leaves only after giving him a hearty slap to his back and telling him to be safe. Emma and Raven are the only ones left. Experimenting and playing around with the staff had helped him push his feelings to the side, but now that it’s done, he can’t help but feel a great disappointment. The three of them walk out to the parking lot behind the restaurant and he can feel Raven’s eyes on him. She, also, looks disappointed, mostly for him. He nods at her and Emma before making his way to his motorcycle.

“Wait!”

He stops, turning around at the voice. Charles is running down the alley, arms waving, “Please, wait.”

Raven and Emma are both frozen in surprise, but Erik walks toward him, “Charles.”

Charles stops running only when he’s standing directly in front of Erik, and then he bends over, hands on his thighs as he tries to catch his breath. Erik leans down as well, his hands going to Charles’s arms to steady him, “Are you alright?”

Nodding, Charles struggles to breathe normally, “Yes…I’m…fine…cab…driver…crying…ran…”

“Oh my God, Charles,” Raven rushes over, but Charles waves her off.

“I’m…fine…promise…”

“You better be!” Raven tells him before turning to Erik, “You. Take care of him, get him some dinner. I have to get home. Hank promised to keep Kurt awake, but only for a little longer.”

Erik nods and she turns back to Charles, “You. Eat whatever he makes for you. Make sure Erik gets you home safe and sound.”

Charles nods, waving her close for a quick hug before she walks off to her car. Emma waves at them before walking to her own car. Once they pull out of the lot, Erik takes Charles’s arm, tugging him toward the back door, “Come on then. Let’s get some food in you.”

Charles is still breathing heavy as Erik leads him into the restaurant, turning on the lights and setting the shorter man at a counter with a stool he can sit on. Erik rummages through the fridge, finding some of the desserts they had been playing with earlier, “Alright, so I have a flan here, a chocolate mousse, and some…yogurt pudding thing that Raven made. I think it has mango in it? Maybe?”

When he walks back over to Charles, the other man is staring at him, eyes filled with tears, “My mother only let Raven stay with us because she wanted me to have a toy to play with.”

Erik is taken aback, “What?”

“Raven isn’t truly my sister,” Charles admits to him, “Not biologically anyway, and that’s all that mattered to Marko, our stepfather. My dad adopted her because he wanted me to be happy, but Mother only did to keep me occupied. Things changed when she remarried.”

“Oh, Charles,” Erik doesn’t know what else to say. This has to be the depressive episode that comes with SOS. Tearful, emotional episodes have always preceded the onset of the loss of olfactory senses.

Charles is crying, tears running down his face, “I was a burden to my own parents. And they’re gone now. I can’t do anything to them or for them or about them anymore.”

At that, Charles slides down the side of the counter until he’s huddled on the floor, face buried in his knees. Erik runs over and pulls him close, one arm around his shoulders, “Shhh. It’s alright now, Charles. It’s alright.”

He looks around and tries to think of how to get Charles out of there. He can’t take him on his motorcycle, not when he’s like this. Then he realizes he doesn’t even know where Charles lives, “Charles, where do you live? Do you live far? Do you want to go home?”

Charles nods miserably, “I want to go home. I’m just out back, next door.”

Erik blinks, “That’s…really close. You’re sure you live right next door?”

“Yes,” Charles sniffles, “I’m miserable, not an idiot.”

He can’t stop the laugh from bubbling out of him, “Right, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. Should I call Raven?”

“Noooo!” Charles yells, “I don’t want her to see me like this. I could infect her! I could infect you!”

“They say it’s not contagious,” Erik tries to placate him, but it doesn’t work.

Charles shakes his head, “That’s just something we say to stop people from panicking.”

He continues to rock Charles against his side, whispering about how everything is alright, that Charles is safe. There are times when the other man starts to speak, but then stops when he’s overcome with sobs. The time it takes for Charles to get calm enough so he can help him stand is filled with terrible, heart wrenching moments where he feels useless. It feels like an eternity, but finally he calms, just enough so he can lean against Erik and walk. They walk out the back door and into the alleyway.

“Which way?” Erik asks. Charles just raises an arm and points quickly before dropping his arm again to wrap it around Erik’s waist. Erik shuffles them over to the back door to apartment building, feeling around as little as possible to see if he can find Charles’s keys, but can’t find them, “Charles, where are your keys?”

“It’s a card swipe access building,” he tells him, fumbling in his back pocket for his wallet, then pulling keys from one of his front pockets, “Card for the building doors, key for my door.”

Erik takes both from him and quickly swipes them into the building, “What floor, Charles?”

“Second.”

The stairs aren’t too much of an obstacle, and they manage them pretty well. When they get to the second floor, Erik asks another question, “Which apartment?”

“Number 202,” he sniffles and moves closer, tears again flowing down his cheeks.

Erik makes quick work of opening the door and they stumble inside. Charles had calmed significantly, but is again clinging to him and crying. He moves them to the bedroom and lies down on the bed, pulling Charles against his side, kicking off his shoes and managing to toe off the other man’s. He drifts, dozes, letting his mind wander, occasionally making sounds of comfort to let Charles know he’s not alone and that everything will be fine. He knows that’s not, strictly speaking, true, but it’s comforting to say all the same. It’s only when Charles has fallen asleep that he himself starts crying. He thinks about his mother and father, about how he’ll never see them again. How he must have let them down. He thinks about what could have been with Magda. He lets his whole life of sorrows flow through him, not realizing that Charles is murmuring gently to him now. He feels afloat as he drifts in memories and regrets.

* * *

Charles wakes up entangled with another person. It takes him a few seconds to realize who it is. Erik. He remembers going to the restaurant and then…he sits up quickly, feeling Erik’s arm slide from his waist as he takes deep breaths. Nothing. There’s nothing.

He closes his eyes and forces himself to calm. He’s known this would happen. He has, in fact, been expecting it for weeks now. He lies back down, tugging Erik’s arm back around his waist as he tries to fall back asleep. It proves impossible. His mind is whirring. He keeps thinking about how he should go back to the hospital, to the lab. More work to be done. No more fear about it happening because it’s already happened. He opens his eyes when he feels movement behind him. Barely sparing a glance at the room, he turns his head and smiles softly at the man beside him, “Good morning.”

Erik smiles back, “Good morning to you. How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Charles tells him, “In a way, I’m glad. Glad it’s finally happened so I’m no longer dreading it.”

“Hmmm,” Erik hums his agreement, absently nuzzling against Charles’s shoulder, “Do you need to go?”

Charles closes his eyes, hoping to shut reality out for a few more moments, “Yes.”

“Right now?” Erik asks, tilting Charles’s face toward him. He opens his eyes again and finds himself looking up into Erik’s face. They just watch each other for several minutes, just taking in each other’s features. Then Charles’s phone rings. He jumps and turns around to where the sound is coming from, trying to find it. Unfortunately, he has to climb out of bed to get it. He finds it discarded on Erik’s dresser and grabs it before the ringing stops, “Hello?”

“Charles.”

He blinks, “Raven, how are you? Why are you calling?”

“The last time I saw you, you were wheezing outside the restaurant,” he can practically hear her eyes roll through the phone,

“Of course I’m going to check on you.”

“Oh, I’m fine,” he tells her, “Just woke up.”

“Oh?” He can tell how much she wants to ask where he slept.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he speaks again, “First, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh God, what happened? Are you okay? Did Erik try to kill you? Did you kill Erik? Did the restaurant burn down? Are you at home? Are you in the hospital? Are you sleeping outside because you locked yourself out?”

“Raven!” He stops her from asking any more ridiculous questions. He sees Erik glance at him and just shakes his head. Erik continues out of the room, leaving him to his conversation. He turns his attention back to Raven, “I’m fine, he didn’t try to kill me, I certainly didn’t try to kill him, the restaurant didn’t burn down, at least when we were there, and it appears to be fine from what I can see out my window. I’m at home, not the hospital or sleeping outside. I have SOS, Raven, and Erik was kind enough to bring me home last night when the first stage hit me in the restaurant.”

He can hear her gasp, “Charles!”

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“You’re at home? He took you home. Is he still there?”

He rolls his eyes, knowing she’s latched onto that because she doesn’t want to think about the rest of it, “Yes, I’m at home, as is he, because he stayed with me to help. I need to go now, though, so I can change and get to work.”

“Do you need a ride?” She asks him.

“Maybe, I’d like to go to the hospital, run some tests, but I don’t know if you’ll already be at work,” he tells her, but isn’t sure what the plan is yet, “Let me text you when I find out, alright?”

“Alright…”

“I really am fine, Raven, I promise,” he tells her. They exchange goodbyes and he hangs up. He sets the phone down and walks out of the bedroom, shooting one last glance at the bed before shutting the door behind him. He walks down the hall and into the open concept dining room and kitchen. Erik stands at the stove, stirring something. Charles feels such a strong urge to walk up behind the other man and wrap his arms around his waist, bury his face between his shoulder blades, even as he’s surprised to find the man cooking in his kitchen. The image stays with him even as he walks over and leans against the counter beside the stove. He peeks over the pan and sees scrambled eggs.

“Is this your normal breakfast?” Charles asks, curious for any information about the man in front of him, “I didn’t know I had any eggs left.”

“Yes,” Erik smiles at him as he adds more salt and pepper, “I generally have eggs and a side of bacon or potatoes every morning. This morning we have bacon. It’s in the oven, baking.”

“You bake your bacon?” Charles can’t help but grin, “I have bacon?”

“Yes, you do, though not anymore. As for baking it, it’s not as dangerous. This way, you don’t get hit by popping grease,” Erik grins wide too before picking up a forkful of eggs and holding it in front of Charles, “Try it? I’m not sure it’s strong enough.”

Charles leans forward to take a bite. He can’t help the noise that comes out of him, “What’s in that? It’s amazing! First off, I thought things would be different without being able to smell them. Second off, I’m not joking at being surprised by your finds in my kitchen. I can’t believe you can make something like this with what I have here.”

Erik’s smile dims a little, “Things will be different. Very different. I used heavy cream instead of milk and added more seasoning to these than I ever have before.”

“How did you know…” Charles trails off, remembering waking in the middle of the night to Erik crying, “Oh…Erik, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Erik tells him, bumping his hip against him, “It was bound to happen sooner or later, right? At least this way I can get a jump start on how we can keep the restaurant going.”

They lapse into silence until the eggs and bacon are ready, and then they move to the dining table. Still silent. It’s only when Charles realizes he should get ready to leave that he speaks again, “I’m sorry for last night.”

“It’s really fine, Charles,” Erik hesitantly reaches a hand out to take one of his, “I’m glad I was there to help you through it.”

“But you didn’t have anyone to help you,” Charles protests, pushing his eggs around his plate a little.

Erik shakes his head, “You were there for me, Charles.”

“But-”

“Enough about that,” Erik interrupts him, dropping his hand, “I think we both need to get ready to leave, that is, if you have work today. I need to go home and shower and change, then come back for work.”

“I do want to get up to the hospital, test some new samples. Raven offered to give me a ride, and since the boss has to run home, I think there’s time for her to run me by the hospital,” Charles tells him, already walking back to the bedroom to get his phone, but Erik calls after him, “Why don’t I give you a ride?”

Charles stops, looking over his shoulder, “It’s not any trouble?”

“No,” Erik insists, “The hospital is actually along my way home. I’m just out in the suburbs, I didn’t want to stay in the city with all the people and the noise around me 24/7. At least this gives me a break when I need it.”

“That would be excellent,” Charles grins, turning back to his bedroom, “Just let me grab a quick shower and change of clothes. Ten minutes, maybe fifteen? Is that okay?”

“It’s fine,” Erik tells him, “I’ll finish eating and get my things together.”

Charles gets back to his room and grabs his phone, knowing he has to call Raven anyway, if only to let her know that her services are no longer needed.

“Charles!”

“Sorry, I left my phone in the bedroom,” Charles offers, then as penance for not texting her says, “Erik made breakfast.”

“Really?” She asks, her tone suggestive and he can practically hear the wink.

“I think you’re far too interested in my sex life than you should be, Raven,” he tells her dryly. She only laughs as he continues,

“Anyway. Erik is going to run me to the hospital, said it’s on his way home.”

“Oh, did he now? Fine, no problem,” she doesn’t hesitate a second. He hears her yelling at Hank to let him know that Erik is dropping Charles off at the hospital. He can hear Hank ask a question, but doesn’t hear her response before she’s back on the line, “Sorry about that. Hank said he was going to ask if you’re coming in today, but I gave it away.”

“Of course I am.”

“That's what I said. He says ‘of course I am’ all indignant. See what you did, Hank? That’s what you get for doubting Charles,” he hears her yell back, mocking his accent terribly, “Alright, sounds good. I’m actually heading over to the restaurant soon anyway. Are you guys leaving soon or do you have something else planned first?”  
He shakes his head, laughing, “You’re ridiculous. We’re leaving as soon as I take a shower and get changed. So maybe fifteen minutes or so.”

“Damn it, Charles! You can’t just spring this on me. I’ll never get there in time!” Raven yells, and Charles can hear Kurt in the background say, “Daddy, Mommy said a baaaadd word.”

He laughs hard, “I’ll see you later, Raven.”

He can hear her sputtering as he hands up. True to his word, he takes a quick shower and changes into one of his nice short-sleeved, button downs, a blue to match his eyes, and a pair of jeans before going back into the dining room. Erik is still sitting at the table, reading the newspaper.

“Where did that come from?” Charles asks, “I don’t subscribe.”

Erik grins, smiling at the damp hair curling around Charles’s head, “I ran down to the restaurant, we get one every day.”  
He tells him about Raven being ridiculous, and Erik just smiles and nods before folding the paper again and setting it to the side. He gets up and asks, “Bathroom?”

“It’s right off the bedroom,” Charles directs, confused when Erik just nods and leaves the room. Charles can’t help but feel like something went wrong. Erik returns, looking a little fresher, even though he’s still wearing dark jeans and a black turtleneck from the day before. It’s a little distracting, but Charles manages to work up the nerve, “Did I…say something wrong?”  
Erik looks at him, confused, “No? Why would you ask?”

“Are you sure you don’t blame me?” He asks quietly, knowing that sometimes people do blame others when really there’s nothing that can be done about it.

Erik moves around to kneel in front of him and moves his hands to cup his cheeks, “I’m positive. You’ve done nothing, nothing, wrong. Do you understand?”

Charles can’t tear his eyes away and nods slowly, “Yes.”

“Are you sure?” Erik questions.

“I’m sure. I understand,” Charles beams at him. Erik grins goofily back and they just stare at each other before Erik stands and holds out a hand, “Let’s get you to work, shall we?”

* * *

“So…how are you feeling?”

Charles looks up from the slide he’s studying under the microscope to see Hank standing awkwardly beside him, shifting nervously, “I’m fine, Hank. Nothing really different.”

“I guess the up side is that you can’t smell how gross these animals smell,” Hank offers with a slight smile. Charles can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out.

Once they’ve both calmed, Hank asks another question, “So…Erik?”

Charles raises a brow, “Is that the question?”

Hank rolls his eyes, “Are you two seeing each other?”

“We haven’t discussed it,” Charles realizes, “but I think that’s what we’ll end up doing. I mean, that’s how it seemed to me. Do you think I’m misreading the situation? Do you think he was just being nice? Do you think I’m reading too much into it?”

“Charles, calm down,” Hank tells him, “I see that the fast talking when nervous runs in the family.”

Charles just glares at the other man before Hank continues, “I think everything is fine. You go at the pace you want to. If he pushes you into something you don’t want, let Raven know and she’ll kick his ass.”

Charles snickers. Of course Hank would use Raven as the threat instead of himself. He nods at his brother-in-law, “Thank you, Hank. Now. Let’s keep this going. I think I’ve all but lost my teaching position now that you’ve roped me into consulting on this.”

“I think you’ll be fine, Charles,” Hank rolls his eyes, but means exactly what he said.

* * *

“Alright everyone, listen up,” Emma walks through the kitchen, getting everyone’s attention before gesturing at Erik, “The boss man has an idea.”

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” Erik starts, then proceeds to outline his idea, “We’re staying open, we’re just adapting to the changes. Life goes on. We just need to move with it. We want to stay high quality, but make it more. Add more seasonings and sugar. Make it more flavorful. That’s the plan moving forward. We have at least one person on staff with SOS, so we can test recipes on the limited palate.”

Emma shoots him a glare, hating the fact that he didn’t tell her immediately that morning, but Erik continues, ignoring her, “I came down with SOS last night, so any new recipes will come through me.”

Raven’s eyes widen in shock, “Erik? I knew about Charles, but he didn’t say a word…”

The rest of the staff look at him in dismay, but he shakes his head, “It’s fine, really. It’s not really a surprise. We all knew it would catch one of us soon, it just happens that that someone is me. We just need to move past from this. Be inventive, stretch our creativity. We need to keep up with the changing tastes if we’re to stay open. People will get past this and start going out again, and we just need to give them something they don’t realize they need. Soon, they’ll be ready to move forward, and this is how we move forward.”

* * *

_**Life goes on. The food becomes spicier, saltier, more sweet, more sour. Meals are full of different ingredients to provide a more daring flavor. You get used to it. You adapt. That’s how people move forward. It’s not long before people learn how to live without smell. The greater loss is all the memories that are no longer triggered. Smell and memory were connected in the brain, but no longer. Cloves might have reminded you of your grandfather’s study. The scent of the gasoline could remind you of a fear of fire. Without smell, an ocean of past images disappears. We lose memories, both good and bad, just as we lose our sense of smell. Memories we can’t keep because they were so closely tied to a smell. After a while, we forget what smell was. Life goes on.** _

* * *

 


	3. Part Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Perfect Sense.

* * *

TASTE

* * *

Charles wakes up to pebbles being thrown against his window. He rubs absently at his eyes, feeling almost like a child as he scrubs the sleep away. He hears more pebbles as they hit glass. He shuffles over to the window and opens it, hearing a shout as a pebble flies past his head. He blinks, looking down to see Erik standing there sheepishly, leaning against his motorcycle. Charles grins sleepily, “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Erik calls back to him, grinning with him.

“Not that I’m not beyond pleased to see you, but why are you throwing rocks at my window at,” Charles turns to look at his clock, surprised to find that he’s slept in later than he thought, “10:30 in the morning?”

“Raven,” Erik grins, realizing that Charles believed it to be earlier than it is, “She told me you’ve been shut away in that lab with Hank for the last few weeks. I’m playing hooky so I can break you out of your self-imposed prison. And I’ve missed you.”

Charles chuckles, feeling his cheeks turn red, “I’ve missed you as well, darling, but I actually should have been at the lab an hour ago. Hadn’t realized I forgot to set my alarm.”

He can’t see Erik roll his eyes from up here, but knows he’s just done it, “Please, Charles, why do you think Raven sent me? Hank called to tell her you hadn’t shown up, and not to worry because you were probably over-tired. Naturally that just makes her worry more, so she sent me. I think I’m a gift.”

Charles laughs at the boyish grin on Erik’s face at being considered a gift for him, “I don’t doubt it in the least. I _could_ follow that up with a terrible joke about unwrapping, but…”

He trails off, delighting in the laugh it brings from the other man. When Erik manages to get himself under control he calls up to him, “I thought we might get lunch.”

“Hmmm,” Charles considers, “Not sure I’m hungry.”

“What about coffee?” Erik continues when he doesn’t get an answer, “A lollipop? Pumpkin pie? Salty popcorn? Whiskey?”

Charles laughs heartily at the suggestions, shaking his head at Erik’s antics. Erik doesn’t stop smiling, “How about some fresh air then? A walk?”

That does it. Charles nods, “Alright. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be right down.”

He sees Erik’s grin widen even more before he turns away from the window. As he gets ready, he finds himself smiling widely, unable to stop. He decides to wear his most comfortable jeans, even though they’re a little rough, and one of his oversized sweaters that, Raven is constantly telling him, makes him look like an old man. She tells him that the elbow patches are what really do it. It’s a beautiful ivory sweater that he discovered at a thrift shop years ago. He knows it’s a little frumpy, but if Erik wants to spend time with him, then he feels that he shouldn’t hold back on who he truly _is_. He slips his feet into a pair of loafers and, shoving his keys into his pocket, practically runs out of the apartment.

Erik is leaning against his motorcycle when he gets down to the street. He feels an overwhelming desire to run to the man and hug him tight, but he refrains, just barely, and slowly makes his way over. It’s Erik who makes the move and puts his arms around him. Charles melts against him, letting his arms do what they will. They stand like that for several minutes. Charles buries his face in Erik’s neck and mumbles, “I really wish we had done this back when I could still smell.”

He thinks he feels Erik kiss the top of his head before he responds, “Me too, Charles. If only so I could have spent more time with you before you decided to devote your life to the lab.”

Charles stiffens, pulling back, but Erik gentles him, running his hands up and down his back, “Shh, I meant it as a joke. I guess that didn’t quite make it through.”

“Sorry,” Charles apologizes, “It’s just that my last relationship was with a man who thought I spent too much time at work, between teaching and consulting with Hank. He didn’t have a very good reaction when I told him to stuff it.”

“I’m sorry you had to deal with him,” Erik tells him, slowly pulling back, “but I’m also glad he took issue, because that means you’re free to spend your time with me now.”

Charles smiles at him, finally releasing his hold, “Yes, I suppose that’s true. In that case, aside from _how_ it ended, I’m glad it did. I mean, I was already glad, but now I’m doubly glad.”

Erik chuckles before gesturing to his motorcycle, “So, are we going to walk or ride?”

“I think,” Charles begins, “it might be nice to just walk for a bit. Maybe we can go to the park.”

“Excellent choice, sir,” Erik grins widely, securing his helmet under the seat before offering his arm, “Shall we promenade?”

Charles laughs, feeling giddy at the thought that this man, this wonderful, fun, beautiful man, wants to know him, “I think we shall.”

* * *

Erik can't remember a better day than this one. He and Charles had walked through the city, pointing out fun or interesting things as they saw them, to the park. Now, they were walking, arm in arm, through the grass. They passed by several picnickers and families out for the day. The day was perfect for this sort of laziness. Being able to enjoy the crisp autumn air with people you cared about. It was something that had started after SOS. Just another way to show that life continues on. He looks down at Charles, whose cheeks were tinged pink from the chill, eyes bright with happiness. They were just sharing bits off their lives as they walked.

“I was very surprised, I’ll tell you, when I came across Raven and _Hank_ , of all people, together down in the lab,” Charles is telling him, “I couldn’t believe _that_ was how I had to find out that my sister and best friend were seeing each other.”

Erik laughs with him, “I can’t say I have a sister, but I was surprised as hell when I walked into the kitchen last week, because I had forgotten my keys on the counter, and found Emma and Azazel in the walk in freezer.”

Charles’s eyes widen, “What? _Why_? The freezer?”

Erik is laughing so hard tears are streaming down his face, “That’s what _I_ said!”

Both men lean against each other as they laugh. Charles wipes his face, “What did they say?”

“Nothing!” Erik laughs harder, “Emma had this surprised look on her face, and Azazel just glared at me and shut the door!”

“No!” Charles is leaning heavily against Erik now as he tries to stay upright.

Erik nods, “He did.”

“Did you stay?”

“Yeah, I had to,” Erik explains, “The lock automatically engages when you shut the door, unless you disable it.”

Charles goes off into peals of laughter, “So you had to stay there and wait for them to…finish?”

Erik’s grin widens, “Oh yes, and can you imagine their reactions when they realized they were locked in? I could hear Emma yelling at Azazel for not disabling the auto lock and then telling him that he shouldn't have run me off.”

“What did you do?” Charles asks, eager to know what happened next.

“I waited a few minutes to see if they tried their phones,” he tells him, mischief in his eyes, “but they’d left them outside on the counter.”

“That’s so terrible for them!”

Erik chuckles, “I finally gave them a break and opened the door. The looks on their faces when they realized I’d never left was priceless. Emma hasn’t been able to look me in the face since then, and Azazel, well, he’s been switching between smug and annoyed.”

“Smug?” Charles wipes away the last of his tears, “Why would he be smug?”

“Azazel has been after Emma for years now, and it’s only been recently that she’s given him the time of day,” Erik explains, “I’m pretty sure he’s proud of himself, but also proud that someone else knows.”

“Oh dear,” Charles chuckles weakly, “I think I need a break. I don’t think I can breathe that well right now.”

Erik immediately helps him over to one of the benches lining the sidewalk, “Let’s sit a moment then.”

He sits directly beside Charles and takes his hand, not saying a word. He sees Charles smile to himself from the corner of his eye before he turns his attention to their surroundings. It’s Charles who draws his attention to the group of people farther down the sidewalk, “Should we see what that’s all about?”

“How are you feeling?” Erik asks him, wanting to make sure he was alright.

“Oh, I’m fine,” Charles tells him, leaning his head to rest on Erik’s shoulder, gently squeezing his hand in reassurance, “It was just all the laughing. I’m good now. Can we please go see what the commotion is?”

Erik smiles down at him, pressing his lips to the crown of his head, “Alright, let’s go then.”

Neither loosens their grip, so they walk over to the group, hand in hand, to find a street performer in the center. She’s dancing around with a fiddle, but stops every now and then to hand out leaves and flowers. Charles smiles when she hands him a lily with a flourish, handing a large green leaf to Erik next. She dances back to the center and starts playing a tune, stopping to speak, “And now, we shall learn a new smell.”

Charles watches intently, but Erik watches _him_. Charles is so caught up in the performance that he seems not to notice. Erik only vaguely realizes what her performance is about, mostly just enjoying the expressions that cross Charles’s face. He only looks back to the performer when she starts talking about the _smell_ of damp earth, describing a forest in detail. He thinks he can almost smell it again. He remembers a time when his mother took him into the forest to teach him about nature and she had him smell everything, touch everything. She told him that the only way he could really enjoy nature was to focus on everything it had to offer, at one point even having him eat several plants to discover how they taste. He’s brought out of the memory by a hand on his cheek. He blinks and looks down at Charles, who is looking up at him with concern, “Are you alright? You’ve been somewhere else for the last few minutes.”

Erik looks around and realizes that the performer has gone, and the crowd has dissipated. He shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize…”

Charles shakes his head, tucking the lily away into his pocket carefully, “I don’t care as long as you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” Erik puts a hand on top of the one on his cheek, turning his face to press into it, “I promise. I was just remembering my mother.”

“Was she a good woman?” Charles asks, tilting his head in that adorable way Erik has seen him do when he’s trying to piece together a puzzle.

“The best,” he tells him, putting his hands on Charles’s waist to drag him close. Charles braces himself by setting his hands on Erik’s shoulders, leaning back to keep eye contact. Erik leans down to run his nose along the other man’s, “She took me into the forest to learn everything about it.”

Understanding dawned in Charles’s eyes, “I understand now.”

Erik nods, touching the tips of their noses together, “She had me smell and taste as much as was probably healthy, or at least not unhealthy.”

Charles smiles, “That sounds nice.”

“It was,” he confirms, “She was wonderful.”

They stand in silence for a few moments before Charles speaks, “I know people say it and don’t mean it, but please know I _do_ mean it, but I’m sorry she’s gone.”

Erik hums, knowing Charles is completely genuine. He starts swaying, which soon turns into an impromptu dance. Charles laughs as he’s spun out and back, then dipped down low. Erik grins as Charles clutches tight to him, slowly bringing him back up. Charles is still smiling when they continue walking, Erik immediately taking his hand. He brings it to his lips and presses a soft kiss against the knuckles, “What should we do now?”

* * *

Charles can’t remember a time when he’s been happier. It wasn’t something he had been expecting in the wake of the SOS epidemic, but he’s so glad for it. Erik has been a dream. They’ve been walking and talking for hours, and Charles knows exactly what he wants to do next.

“Come home with me,” he suggests with a grin.

Erik blinks at him, for a moment confused by the suggestion, but then he realizes it was meant precisely as it had been said, “You want me to…”

“Come home with me,” Charles says again, because he loves saying it. He stops walking and turns into Erik, pressing up against him, “Come. Home. With. Me.”

Erik’s pupils dilate and he leans down to nuzzle against Charles’s temple, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Charles asks, almost not believing it.

“Yes,” Erik tells him, a smile growing, “Okay. Let’s go home.”

Charles grins back, taking his hand before taking off at a run. Erik’s laughter follows him, just as the man himself does. He stops running after a while, mostly because running all the way back to the apartment isn’t the best choice, but also because he wants to enjoy this time with Erik. They don’t speak at all as they walk back to his apartment. It’s only when they’re through his front door that they both move toward each other. Charles is pushed against the door as Erik’s hands cup his face. He keeps his eyes on Erik’s as the other man leans in closer and closer until his lips brush against Charles’s own. Charles gasps at the first electric touch, feeling the firmness of Erik’s before they move, nipping and sucking, coaxing Charles to open for him. He’s swept away as they fall into each other, both as ravenous as the other. It’s almost a fight to see who gets to the bed the fastest. Charles stripping his sweater as he walks down the hall, leaving it in a pile on the floor, falling back against the bedding once they make it to his room. His fingers are already reaching toward his jeans when Erik swats them away and does it himself. He’s surprised to find that Erik is still completely dressed, minus shoes and socks. Charles laughs, knowing it’s a little ridiculous, but loving that Erik’s barefoot in his home. He’s so caught up in it that he doesn’t realize that Erik’s tugging at his jeans, stripping them from him before removing his own shirt and pants. Charles grins into the kiss when Erik lies on top of him and thinks that he’s almost sorry they’ve waited this long. Almost. It’s only in knowing how much better things are with knowing each other. The sweep of Erik’s hands along his skin, the brush of his lips. It’s all made better by the knowing. Erik takes his time exploring him, taking him apart down to the foundation before building him back up. And then he’s inside him and he’s never felt so whole. He’s never felt so right. Erik’s gentle with him until he begs for more. Each moment feels better than the last, and it’s when he’s almost crushed beneath him in the aftermath that Charles can even begin to think about how he’s feeling. He runs his hands softly up and down the planes of Erik’s back, wanting him to stay, to stay connected to him for a little longer. He feels Erik’s breaths begin to even out as they puff against his neck. He runs a hand up his spine to cup his neck. He feels Erik shift against him, pulling away, and Charles immediately misses feeling Erik inside him. He feels empty now. Erik moves to drop to his back beside him, moving an arm under his shoulders to encourage him to cuddle against his side. Charles has no problem with that. He drapes an arm across Erik’s stomach. They don’t speak, they just enjoy each other. It’s not long before they drift to sleep.

* * *

Erik wakes up in Charles’s bed. He’s behind Charles, tucked up with his chest tight against the other man’s back, on arm across his waist, the other beneath his head. Charles wiggles when Erik moves to pull away. Suddenly, things feel too intimate, too close, too sensitive. He can’t breathe being this close. He moves farther away, gently tugging his limbs free before sitting on the edge of the bed. He leans his head into his hands. This is what he wants. He remembers being unable to work without thinking of Charles for weeks, months even. _This_ is what he wanted then, and it’s what he wants now. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling conflicted. Things are good at the restaurant, their new menu has been accepted readily and with enthusiasm. He knows Sebastian hadn’t been right for him. The older man had made him feel suffocated by the attention. Charles is completely different, but he doesn’t know why he’s feeling the way he is now. He doesn’t realize Charles is awake until he feels him pressed against his back, “Good morning.”

Erik feels himself flinch. That’s the moment when he feels Charles start to pull away. Not physically, because he can feel the line of him along his back, but he’s stiff now, no longer fluid. Charles slowly moves his arms and then the rest of his body back. Erik turns around, apologies ready on his lips, but he’s not given a chance to say anything. Charles’s eyes are cold as they stare back at him. He clears his throat, “I think you should go.”

“Charles?” he asks, but the other man cuts him off with a wave of his hand before he can say anything else.

“It’s fine,” Charles says, but Erik knows he doesn’t mean it, “I need to be alone, please.”

Erik hesitates, and Charles moves the covers higher up his chest, “I need to be alone. Please.”

Knowing he won’t get anywhere now if he argues, Erik nods once before moving to grab his things. He stumbles getting into his jeans, but otherwise manages to get dressed with minimal hassle. He looks back at Charles, who seems to be studying the pattern on the covers. He looks around the room to see if there’s anything he can write on and sees a notepad on top of the dresser. He walks over and, finding a pen also on the dresser, jots down his name, number, and, just in case, address before turning back to the bed. He moves closer, holding up the piece of paper, “Here. This is my phone number and address, if you want to get ahold of me. Also, you know where I work. And Raven can always get ahold of me.”

He tosses the paper onto the bed and moves toward the door, turning back to look at Charles. He looks miserable just sitting there like that, not making eye contact. He sighs, “I’m sorry, please, take some time to think and call me. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you and want to spend more. What happened just now…that wasn’t about you. If this is about something else, if I’ve done something else…I apologize for that too, but that doesn’t really help, does it? If I don’t know.”

He watches the other man for another few moments before walking out of the room. He only has his shoes and socks in the living room, but he quickly puts them on and leaves the apartment. Jogging down the stairs, he can’t help but think that Charles had somehow seen his doubts. It was his fault. He flinched. Charles tried to say good morning and he flinched. The doubts were still there, though, and he knew he would have to work through them before he could be with Charles again. If he was given another chance, that is.

* * *

Charles is shaking in frustration. He’s frustrated with himself, with Erik, with the world, this disease. It’s been a week since he kicked Erik out after the most intimate sex of his life. Over that time, he’s wondered if he was wrong to ask him to leave. He wonders if he had imagined that flinch. Every time he’s almost convinced himself that he _had_ imagined it, he remembers it all over again. He isn’t sure what made Erik move away from him, but the best thing he could do was ask him to leave. Give them both time and space. He’s seen Raven a few times since then, and every time she gives him a look like he kicked her dog. He’s supposed to meet her for lunch, not at the restaurant, today, so maybe they’ll get a chance to talk it out. Right now, though, he just wants to stay home. He doesn’t, though. When the time comes, he gets ready, dressing in his second most comfortable sweater, because he hasn’t been able to wear the other one since he sent Erik away, and a pair of jeans. He calls a cab and makes it to the restaurant Raven chose. It’s different than Erik's, a little fancier, less homey. Farther away. He walks in and gives Raven’s name to the host. They almost always make reservations under Raven’s name because she knows a lot of chefs in the city and her name gets them a discount, if not a free meal. She’s already there, waiting for him. He feels like he’s walking to meet a firing squad.

“Charles!” Raven jumps up from her seat and hugs him tight, “How are you? Are you okay? Have you called him yet? Have you heard from him? Has he called you? Are you okay?”

“How many ways did you find to ask the same question?” He asks her, bemused. She hadn’t been like this the other times he’s seen her this week.

“I left out a few others,” she tells him, releasing him so they can sit down. She waits until they place their drink orders before starting in again, “So?”

He sighs, resigned, “I haven’t, he hasn’t, we haven’t, but I’m fine. Truly.”

She shoots him a suspicious glance before looking back at the menu, “As long as you’re sure? But you should know, he-”

“Don’t,” he stops her before she can say anything else, “I don’t want to hear anything more about him. We both need to figure things out before we can see each other again.”

“What do you need to work out?” She demands, her frustration showing.

Charles doesn’t know how to tell her. It wasn’t something he ever did before, it hadn’t been necessary. One look at the determination in her face tells him that he needs to tell her now, “Raven, you know it ended badly with Logan.”

“Yeah,” she rolls her eyes, “Is that what this is about? Charles, he wasn’t right for you, I know, but Erik-”

“That’s not it, Raven,” he stops her again, “Logan wasn’t right for me, that’s true, but I never told you everything.”

He sees her stiffen and knows that already she has suspicions, “He never wanted a relationship. I think he just wanted the sex. He hated my work, and how much time I spent with Hank. He hit me once. That’s was enough. I left after that.”

“Charles. Why didn’t you tell me?” She has tears in her eyes, “All I knew was that it didn’t work out, and then he left.”

“He left because he had things to work out,” Charles tells her with a sad smile, “He knew that, it just took me leaving for him to really admit it.”

Raven shakes her head, covering one of his hands with hers, “I’m sorry that happened, but what’s that have to do with this? With Erik?”

Leave it to Raven to move on once it was said and done. He knows that she respects his choices and that this was one of them. He had forgiven Logan for his part a long time ago, but he hadn’t been able to get over his own. Not with Logan, but in comparing Erik to Logan. That’s why he told him to leave. He had a spike of fear that Erik had realized it was a mistake or that he had just been in it for one night. The thing is, he’s always thought he should have seen it coming, should have seen something, should have been able to realize what was going on, but he hadn’t. It’s irrational, and he knows that, but it’s also something that he’s been pushing onto Erik. He had seen hesitance and immediately wondered at the other man’s motives. _That_ was what he needed to work through. Raven doesn’t need to know that, though, so he moves on.

“What are you getting for lunch?”

She gapes as him, “You’re seriously going to change the topic _now_?”

“Yes,” he tells her with a nod, “because this is something I need to work on myself. I know what you’ll say, and it won’t help me work through it. You’re wonderful and I love you, but this is something I need to do for myself.”

“Alright,” she sighs, agreeing because she has to not because she actually agrees, “but you’ll tell me if I can help?”

“Of course I will,” he reassures her. They continue with their lunch, avoiding any mention of Erik still. Raven, instead, regales him with stories of Kurt and Hank and antics from others at the restaurant. It’s then that Charles realizes he needs to spend more time with his sister. They’re both always so busy, but he looks at her smiling face and knows that they need to do this far more. They’ve just finished dessert when he tells her what he’s been thinking, “We should do this more often.”

“What?” She asks with a laugh, “Eat? Bitch about Hank’s inability to keep a matching pair of socks?”

He chuckles, “No, I mean, yes, but this. I meant us, doing things together.”

Her face softens, “Oh, Charles.”

“I know you’ve been busy with the restaurant, and I’ve been busy with classes and working with Hank, but we need to make time for each other,” he tells her earnestly. She stands up and walks around the table to hug him. He laughs and hugs her back, “Is that a yes?”

“Of course I think we should hang out more,” she tells him, “You’re my big brother and I always miss you.”

“I know you have Hank and Kurt now, but-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” she tells him as she slaps the side of his head, “That’s for being a moron. I love Kurt, more than anything, and Hank is amazing and I love him too, but you’re my brother. Being with them doesn’t mean I _can’t_ spend time with you too. We’ll figure something out and make it work.”

Charles grins, “Wonderful. Now, do you need to schmooze with the chef, or are we good here?”

They both laugh, holding each other close for a few more moments before they have to go their separate ways again.

* * *

Erik is calling out orders, uncaring as to who takes them up, but knowing someone will. He’s been running himself ragged at work, trying to keep his mind off Charles, but also knowing that he needs to work through his doubts before he can go back to him. After almost getting doused in boiling oil for what was probably the third time of the night, Emma pulls him into her office and shoves him down into a chair, “Sit down and stay down until you can get yourself together.”

He nods and just sits there. They’re sitting in silence, only the shuffling of papers disturbing it. It’s several minutes later that Erik realizes that Emma is deliberately rustling papers, trying to get his attention. He looks at, raising a brow, “Yes?”

“What’s going on with you lately?” Emma jumps right in, “I thought things were going well with Charles.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from Charles in a week, Ems,” he tells her, meeting her eyes even though he wants to look away.

“Why? What happened?” She asks, more like demands, “Did you do it again?”

He looks at her, confused, “Do what?”

Emma sighs, “Erik, you have this terrible habit of sabotaging your own happiness.”

“I do not,” he denies, even knowing it’s true.

It’s her turn to raise a brow, “No?”

“Okay, fine,” he grumbles, “Maybe I do.”

“You definitely do,” she tells him, “but what I want to know is if that’s what happened this time.”

“Yeah, or, at least, partly.”

“Tell me everything.”

So he does. Well, not _everything_ , because there are just some things she never needs to know, but he does tell her _most_ things. His doubts, wondering if he has time or even wants a relationship, Charles kicking him out.

When he’s finished, she looks at him and shakes her head, “Are you serious?”

He just stares until she continues, “Erik, you were pining over the man for weeks. I don’t even know what happened or how or why it happened so quickly, but you adored him. How could you even think that you didn’t want a relationship with the man? You’re an idiot.”

“You’re right,” he admits. It’s something he’s been thinking about since leaving Charles.

“And if you’re worried about having time,” Emma begins, glaring at him, “That’s what you have staff for. That’s what you have _me_ for.”

Erik processes it and nods, “You’re right, again. If I want it, I just need to make the time. I need to make it work.”

Emma smiles at him approvingly, “Exactly.”

He returns the smile before considering, “What if he decides he doesn’t want to see me anymore?”

“What if he does?” She returns, “You’ll never know until you ask.”

Erik stands and grabs her face in his hands as he leans down to kiss her forehead, “You’re amazing.”

“That’s why you hired me,” she shrugs, then grins, “Well, that and the fact that I know all manner of embarrassing things about you and this is how you keep me close.”

They’re grinning at each other when Raven comes knocking, “Sorry to interrupt, but we need more hands out here.”

Erik nods, “Great, I’ll be right there.”

Raven stares at him for a second before returning his nod and leaving.

“Emma,” Erik turns to her again, “Thank you. So much.”

She smiles, “Just remember that when I ask for a raise.”

* * *

 

_**Everyone has their theory for why we've lost our sense of smell. Environmental groups are sure it's the start of an ecological apocalypse caused by human carelessness and abuse on the planet. Intelligence agencies claim it's an attack on human rights and the free world. The fundamentalists talk about God's punishment bearing down on a world of nonbelievers, promising that those of the right faith will regain their sense of smell in the final days. Others talk of the degenerate capitalist system that has released a military virus to stimulate the economy. Then there are the conspiracy theorists who think aliens have somehow brought a virus to our world for punishment to all of humankind for the experiments done on their brothers and sisters at Area 51.** _

* * *

 

Charles is looking at several new samples to see if there’s anything new or different from the previous samples, but there’s still nothing. He pinches the bridge of his nose, hoping to stave off the headache he feels brewing behind his eyes. He stands and stretches, grabbing his notebook and heading out of the lab. He’s stepping into the hall when Moira goes running by. He hears a commotion farther down the hall, where Moira is going, near one of the other labs and jogs after her. He sees her rush into the lab and follows, “Moira, what’s-”

He stops when he sees Hank on the floor, immediately kneeling beside him, “Hank, Hank, listen to me. Can you tell me what’s going on?”

Armando and Alex are staring down at Hank with pity, but also sympathy. He asks them, “What happened?”

Hank is squirming on the floor, muttering about needles and pain and hatred, sounding so afraid.

“He just started going on about how the world is full of hate and how ‘they’ want to destroy us,” Armando tells him, shaking his head, “Nothing happened beforehand, we were just talking about those new samples you’ve been looking at.”

Moira comes back from the far end of the room holding a syringe. Charles flinches at it, but nods when she gives him a questioning look, “Go ahead, I’m afraid he's going to hurt himself with some of the implements in here. It’s too dangerous to _not_ sedate him.”

He watches as Moira gives him the sedative and walks over to dispose of it, talking as she went, “It’ll kick in, just give it a few minutes.”

“Thank you, Moira,” Charles says, keeping a tight grip on Hank. Moira moves to stand with Alex and Armando, all of them waiting for the sedative to start working.

When Hank was calm, Charles stands up and paces, “What happened here? He doesn't just do that.”

“Maybe it’s a delayed effect of SOS?” Alex suggests, but Armando quickly denies it, “If it were related to SOS, we would’ve seen it sooner.”

Moira gestures to the door, “Can we take this discussion to the conference room? What if this is a manifestation of something similar? We don’t want to be in here if another of us is affected.”

Charles agrees, “Right. Let’s move to the conference room. Armando, can you help me with Hank? Alex, can you get us some coffee and snacks from the staff room? Moira, lead the way?”

Everyone agrees and sets about their assigned task. Armando carries most of Hank’s weight, as the other man has passed out from the sedative, and Charles knows he couldn’t have managed by himself. Moira opens the door to the conference room, waiting for Alex to return before locking it behind them. Alex throws an armful of snacks on the table and Moira just shrugs, “This way no one can disturb us or ask about Hank.”

Charles chuckles, “Excellent idea, Moira. Now, let’s…get back…on…task…”

He trails off and looks around the room, “Oh God.”

Alex steps forward, but quickly stops, moving back until he’s against the wall, “Stay away. Just stay away from me.”

“I can’t die alone,” Charles says, horror in his voice, “Oh God, what if he doesn’t come back?”

Moira just sinks to the floor, arms wrapped around her legs as she rocks back and forth, “No, no, no death, no destruction.”

Armando is the last to be affected, but soon he, too, is taken by the fear and paranoia, “The blood. All of the blood.”

“This is it, I’m going to die alone, at work. He was right. He said I work too much. Did he know?” Charles falls into one of the chairs, clasping his hands between his knees.

Hank is the only one who isn't left to suffer for what feels like an eternity as they all see their fears and doubts in front of them.

* * *

Erik is on the floor, his head in Emma’s lap as she tries to soothe him, but it’s not working, “Emma, it’s everywhere. Black oil. It’s everywhere. It’s all over me. How do I get it off? Am I alone? Am I always going to be alone?”

“Erik, sugar,” she starts, concern on her face, but he can only see it as judgment, “It’s alright. You’re fine.”

“Get it off, get it off,” he pleads.

Emma looks around and shouts, “I need some water over here.”

“It’s on you too,” Erik tells her, “It’s all over you.”

Panic shows on her face, “No it’s not, no it’s not, it can’t be. It’s not on me.”

“We’re all alone at the end.”

“Don’t say that!” She screeches, inching backwards, letting his head fall to the floor.

He sits up again, “It’s not just you, it’s all of us. It’s all of us!”

* * *

_**First, the terror. The panic, the fear. Overwhelming us, taking us over. And then...the hunger. Intense, fierce hunger.** _

* * *

 

Charles is biting on one of his knuckles, then his sweater, trying to bite a piece off, but it won’t tear. Moira has turned to the fern on the windowsill behind her and is shoving leaves into her mouth, grabbing for the dirt too. Alex tries to bite Armando, but gets a shove for the trouble. Then they all turn to the bags on the table. It’s a mad scramble and then a mess of chips and cookies, crumbs scattered across the table as they all try to shove as much as possible in their mouths.

* * *

The kitchen is a mess. All of the staff were devouring anything and everything they could lay their hands on. Erik was eating spoonful after spoonful of peanut butter, alternating with beef stock from the stove. Emma is grabbing at the appetizers, and Raven is eating sheet after sheet of unbaked pastry crust. They were all trying to quench an unquenchable hunger.

* * *

Charles comes back to himself with a handful of Cheetos and an empty bottle of grape soda in his other hand. He looks around and sees the utter chaos and destruction in the room. The others seem to have come to as well, except for Hank, who is still out cold from the sedative. Moira has dirt and chip crumbs all over her white blouse, Armando spits out a wad of paper that seems to have been torn from his notebook, and Alex is holding an empty bag of what had been Doritos. He looks down at himself and sees a number of stains on his sweater and almost feels sick from the gluttony they had suffered. He doesn’t remember everything, but the evidence speaks for itself.

“Charles?” Moira’s voice is timid, confused, scared.

He looks at he others and sees the same emotions reflected in their faces. Looking back at the Cheetos in his fist, he brings one to his mouth and bites.

* * *

When Erik wakes up, because he might as well have been asleep for how conscious he was, he sees the mess in the kitchen first, the state of his staff second. Everyone was covered in a mess. He looks down at himself and sees the same thing. He doesn’t know, and has no desire to know, what he had eaten. He just wants to know what happened to them all to have caused this mess. Curiously, though, there’s no aftertaste. He turns to a shelf that had somehow been missed during the ravenous hunger they had all experienced. It has an apple and some other fruits and vegetables on it. He grabs the fruit and takes a bite. Nothing. He turns and looks around at his staff, who are trying to pull themselves together. There are several who take off, but Raven, Emma, and Azazel are looking at him, along with some of the others. He can only bring himself to shake his head, looking away before their looks of disbelief can turn to sadness.

* * *

_**This is how the sense of taste disappears from our world. There's not even time to give the disease a name before everyone has succumbed to it.** _

* * *

 

 


	4. Part Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two left! I'll post both tomorrow.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men, nor do I own Perfect Sense.

* * *

 HEARING

* * *

Erik doesn’t wait around for the others. He finds that he just needs to get away from here. Away from this kitchen, from the food he would no longer be able to taste. He doesn’t think about anything other than getting away. Home. He needs to go home now. He’s on autopilot as he rides through the city toward his home. It’s not until he’s almost home that he spares a moment to think about Charles, hoping the other man is alright. This was no gradual loss of sense. This time, it was like a bang. All at once. He sees him as soon as he pulls into his driveway, sitting on his front steps. Charles stands when he shuts off the motorcycle, taking several steps toward him. Erik just sets his helmet down and rushes to him, his arms gathering him close. Charles returns the embrace, holding him tight. Erik lets out a sigh of relief, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

Charles nods against his neck, “I’m fine. A bit shaky, but fine. You?”

“Same,” he admits, holding tighter before tilting his head back to meet Charles’s eyes. Charles closes his eyes after a few moments and leans up, their lips meeting in the middle. It’s strange. To kiss and not be able to taste the other man. Now it’s just a comfort. He can feel the pressure, the wet swipe of tongue against his. It’s almost normal. When they pull back, he leans his forehead against Charles’s, smiling gently, “Is it just me, or was that a little odd?”

Charles laughs, nodding against his head, “It was, but not bad. Just different.”

Erik nods, “Different.”

They stay like that for longer than he realizes, only moving inside when the sun has started to go down. Erik can’t stop himself from tracing his hands all over Charles as they walk through the house. He’s leading Charles to his bedroom, knowing that they have a lot to talk about, but still needing this reassurance that he’s here, he’s okay, they are both okay. Clothes are lost along the way, shed because they’re in the way. Erik wants to feel Charles’s skin against him, he wants to be as close as he can get. This, skin against skin, is everything. They kiss and touch and kiss again until they can no longer tell each kiss apart. Lips are touching, unmoving, just feeling. Hands map each other, memorize each freckle, each dimple. Erik makes it his mission to find each and every freckle on Charles’s pale skin, kissing them all. Charles cups his face in his hands and just stares into his eyes, making Erik wonder if he’s looking into his soul.

It’s only hours later that they can bring themselves to speak again. Erik has his arms around Charles, who has his ear to Erik’s chest, listening to the beat of his heart. Erik runs his hands up and down his back, pressing and smoothing in a gentle massage. He’s been considering this for a while now, since SOS first appeared, and now seems as good a time as any to ask,

“Do you think we’ll lose all our other senses as well?”

Charles presses a kiss to his chest before he pulls back so he can look up at Erik, “Well, possibly. Though smell and taste are related, they’re the two chemical senses. They work together to tell us about the food we eat, the air we breathe.”

“So the rest could be okay, then?” Erik questions, running a hand through the wild tangle of Charles’s hair, “Maybe this disease isn’t two separate ones, but one big one that takes out the chemical senses?”

“Possibly,” Charles shrugs, “We just have to wait and see.”

“Wait and see,” Erik echoes, then tilts his head down to press their lips together, “We can do that. Together.”

“Yes,” Charles beams, pushing Erik backwards before climbing on top of him, “We can.”

* * *

Charles wakes first, feeling a sense of déjà vu when he discovers they’ve tangled together again. He looks at Erik, taking in his features, trying to remember this look of peace. He gently extricates himself and walks over to his dresser to pull on a pair of boxers. He straightens their clothes, going back through the house to gather what they lost along the way, folding them, and setting them on top of the dresser. He felt strange wearing Erik’s underwear without asking, but he needs to wear something, and doesn’t want to wear yesterday’s dirty underwear. He walks over to stand in front of the large floor to ceiling windows to see what the day has in store.

There’s still a mess in the streets, food and dirt and plants strewn all over, but there are also people. There are people going to their cars, dressed for work. There are people walking their dogs. There are people carrying on as usual. Then, they have gone through something like this before, and people are resilient, adaptable. He thinks about all the work they’ll have at the lab, about all the new samples to test. Then he hears rustling from the bed. He can see Erik’s reflection as he leans up on one arm and smiles at his back, “Good morning.”

“And to you,” Charles smiles.

“What are you looking at?” Erik asks, not moving, his voice gruff from sleep, almost lazy in his speech. He likes this sleepy Erik. He’s softer, happier.

“It’s still out there,” Charles responds, sweeping his hand toward the window.

“What is? The mess?”

“The world,” Charles corrects.

Erik shifts, sitting up, stretching his limbs until they crack, and then moves to stand behind Charles. His hands clasp over his belly and pull him back until his back is against Erik’s chest. He leans down to nuzzle against Charles’s neck. Charles arches his neck, giving him more access.

“What can you see?” Erik asks against his neck, nipping and licking the skin, even though he can’t taste anything.

“People,” Charles says, vaguely, turning to touch his lips to Erik’s, feeling the smile stretch across his lips.

Erik nods, rubbing their noses together, “What are they doing?”

“Walking their dogs, going to work, mowing their lawns,” Charles hums his appreciation, “Just going about their days like normal.”

“And what should we do?” Erik questions, turning Charles around in his arms and pulling him close again.

Charles loves how easy Erik is in his affections. He runs fingers up into the other’s man hair, massaging his scalp, “We should go to work as well.”

“Must we?” Erik asks as he walks backwards, his legs hitting the bed, bringing Charles with him.

“We must,” Charles tells him with mock gravity.

Erik pouts, “Do we kiss each other farewell first?”

“Maybe,” Charles shrugs, hiding his smile.

“Do we say how much we’ve enjoyed each other's company and that we’d like to do it again?” Erik sits, tugging Charles between his legs.

He nods, “Probably.”

“Possibly even this evening?” Erik asks, his face serious, but Charles can see the mischief in his eyes.

“Possibly,” Charles responds, looping arms around Erik's neck.

“And would we be looking forward to that?” Erik grins now.

Charles nods enthusiastically and says, “Yes!”

He pushes Erik down to the mattress. Erik immediately rolls them so Charles is on his back and leans down for a kiss. Erik leans back and stares down at Charles, something having just occurred to him, “I’m not sure if I’ll have a job anymore.”

Charles looks back at him, “I’m sure you do. You just need to figure out how to change things to people’s current tastes, or lack of, I suppose.”

“How do I cater to a lack of taste?” Erik wonders out loud, but then shakes his head, “It’s something for me to consider. What if they don’t come back?”

Charles clears his throat, “Speaking of coming back…I know, it’s a terrible segue, but I couldn’t think of a way to do it and that was just hanging there. I suppose we should talk about last time. That is, so we don’t make the same mistakes this time.”

“Yes,” Erik agrees readily, rolling off of Charles and sitting against the headboard, “Should we go somewhere else, or is this alright?”

Charles mirrors his position, “This is fine, I think.”

There’s silence for several minutes before Erik speaks, “It seems strange to just blurt things out.”

“It does,” Charles can’t help but agree, “Maybe I should go first? It was, in fact, me who cocked things up last time.”

“No, Charles,” Erik denies softly, “I don’t think this is something we can place blame on. We’re two grown men, neither of us monks. Of course we’d have baggage.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Charles agrees, “Never-the-less, I think I’d like to say my peace first, if you don’t mind?”

“Of course not.”

“Alright then,” he pauses, trying to think of how to say what he wants to say, “First off, I’m sorry for my reaction.”

“Charles-”

“No, please,” Charles pleads, “Let me say this without any interruptions.”

Erik nods, staying silent. Charles inclines his head, “Thank you. Now, as I was saying. My reaction wasn't to you, not really. I told you before about my last relationship, my boyfriend, having a bad reaction to my work in the lab. He was always demanding to know where I’d been and what I was doing, who I was with. He didn’t like that I wasn’t spending more time with him. Logan, that’s his name, was always telling me how much he didn’t want to be in a relationship, that he was only doing it for me since I wouldn’t be with him without the labels. One time, I had been at the lab for a week, sleeping on the futon in Hank’s office, and I went home and Logan was there. He screamed at me for not telling him where I was, and that he didn’t believe me when I said I was at the lab the whole time. He hit me. Slapped me across the face. And I was done. I don’t know why it too him hitting me for me to realize that our relationship wasn’t healthy, but I was glad to finally see that.”

Charles pauses before continuing, “I thought that maybe, that morning, you had gotten what you wanted. That you were maybe trying to figure out how to leave. I didn’t mean to, but I was comparing you to Logan. I’ve been thinking about it over the last several weeks and I know you’re not at all like him. I know that. So I’m sorry for everything. For sending you away when I really wanted to crawl back into bed with you and just stay there forever. I’m sorry for not telling you why. I just needed time to think. I needed to work through things so I could be sure I’d be alright when, if we tried this again.”

He’s finished and he feels lighter for having finally gotten it out. It was done. It almost feels like he’s managed to rid himself of a ghost. Erik shifts until he’s looking at Charles, “It feels like we’ve brought far more people into our bed than we want there.”

Charles snickers, but knows he’s serious, “I know, it does. I didn’t mean to, but I think he’s gone for good now.”

“Now it’s my turn,” Erik tells him, a sad quirk to his lips, “I’ve been telling everyone I’ve been involved with that I’m too busy for a relationship, that I need to focus on the job. They've been telling me in return that I have intimacy issues and so many other things. They’re not wrong, not truly. It is the intimacy that scares me. That morning, when we woke up like that, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. My mother and father had the best relationship I’ve ever seen, and it’s something I’ve always wanted, but I’ve also been afraid of it. What if I’m finally in that relationship and he thinks I’m lacking? He thinks I’m no good for him?”

Charles bites his bottom lip, trying not to interrupt. Erik continues, “I know that’s all just fear, but yesterday was full of fear too. I was afraid of dying alone, afraid that I would be alone forever. I don’t remember much, but I remember being afraid of being alone.”

“Me too,” Charles couldn’t stop himself from blurting out, “Oh, Erik, me too. I was so afraid that you’d never come back, that I’d pushed too hard. That’s why I was waiting for you to come home. I had your address from that slip of paper you left and I knew I had to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if you didn’t want me to stay.”

“Is it alright for me to hold you now?” Erik asks, turning his body toward him.

Charles nods quickly, “Yes, please yes.”

They collapse against each other, just holding tight while the rest of the world moves on. They do too.

* * *

Erik stands in the office, Emma is sitting at the desk, head in her hands, “Erik, seriously? We can’t stay open. What’s the point? I say we’re closed.”

“We’ll open again,” he tells her firmly, confidently, “I know we will.”

Emma sighs, glaring up at him, “Why can’t you just listen to me? For once in your life, listen to me.”

“I listened to you last time, about Charles,” he offers, smiling to himself, “so I suppose you know what you’re talking about, but I can’t do it here. This is my baby, Ems. This is my lifeblood. I built Magneto’s from the ground up. I know you run the place, but it’s still my baby. You’re just far better at people than I am.”

She laughs, “Better at people? Yes, I think so. You are pretty terrible at most things involving other people.”

“I know,” he grins at her, “That’s why I hired you. Normally, I’d let you make the decisions, but not in this. I just know that we’ll open again. We have to.”

Emma snorts, “No we don’t. People can’t smell, now they can’t taste. What exactly do we have to stay open for? Now that people can’t taste anything, they can all drink those awful protein shakes and survive on those. Kale smoothies, or some such thing.”

Erik looks at her, amused, “Have you ever even had a kale smoothie?”

“No,” she shudders, “They look disgusting.”

He shakes his head, “I don’t think they’ll all just go to protein shakes.”

Emma gives him a look that says he’s wrong, reaching into the bottom desk drawer to pull out a bottle of whiskey, “Here, drink some of this. Go on.”

He looks at the label. Macallan Rare Cask. He flinches, “Shit, Emma.”

She just gestures at him to drink some. He takes a swig straight from the bottle, almost flinching at the complete and utter lack of taste. He can feel it in his mouth, but he doesn’t taste a thing. He also knows he shouldn’t drink any more unless they’re going to get drunk. He glances from the bottle to her, “At least it’s not the Oscuro.”

“Damned expensive all the same,” Emma grumbles, “but you might as well swig some rubbing alcohol, or sniff paint. It wouldn’t matter. It’s all…a protein shake.”

“It does matter,” Erik argues, holding up a hand when Emma opens her mouth, “No, it does. Life goes on. Just this morning, we were looking out the window and saw people getting on about their day like any other day. They’ll come back.”

“Why?” Emma asks.

“People will go out again, ask each other to dinner again,” he says, “They’ll want to toast each other’s accomplishments and celebrations. We can still take care of their needs, isn’t that a large part of why people go out to dinner? To be taken care of? To not have to worry about cooking their own meals? We can still provide that.”

“With protein shakes.”

Erik laughs, “No, no protein shakes anywhere on the premises, I forbid it. We’ll make everything else. It might take some time, but things will return to normal, life will go on.”

Emma eyes him for several moments before she nods, “Alright. You’ve got ideas, I’m sure.”

“I do,” he tells her with a grin, “I’m going to get started with some ideas right away.”

“One more thing first,” Emma says, a smirk curling across her lips, he nods and she continues, “You said ‘we’.”

Erik thinks back to what he had said and could kick himself, “Yes. Right. I did, say that.”

She quirks a brow, “And? Details, Erik. Don’t think I’m going to forget what you said about me being right.”

“I knew it would stay with you,” He rolls his eyes, then smiles, “Charles was waiting for me at home yesterday.”

“Oh, he was?” Emma pretends to be serious and, on occasion, heartless, but she’s really a romantic at heart, “What happened?”

Erik keeps that soft smile as he talks, “We talked things over and we’re now officially seeing each other.”

“Oh, official, is it?” She teases him, then stands up and walks around the desk to hug him, “I’m glad. I’m glad you’ve worked things out.”

“Me too,” He hugs her tight, then releases her, “Now, I need to get started on what we’re going to do.”

* * *

**_Slowly things return to normal and life goes on. People do what they did before, what they’ve always done, as best they can. Within a few weeks, taste becomes a distant memory. Different sensations take its place. In restaurants, it’s all about offering another person dinner, letting someone else take care of you, listening to the clink of silverware on plates, the crunch of the meal. Life goes on._ **

* * *

Emma is grinning from ear to ear as she reads off the latest review from the paper, “‘Not only has Magneto’s surpassed all expectations on providing a welcoming environment, but the wait staff is prompt and knowledgeable. The food has received special attention from owner and head chef Erik Lehnsherr, proving his mettle in the kitchen. The temperature and consistency of the food provides an adventure for every diner. We tried it all from the flash frozen, to the scorching hot, the dry, the moist, the crisp. There was spongy texture, and crunchy. Everything was at the highest level. Not only do I offer these five stars unreservedly, but I will be returning time and again to experience the adventure yet again.’ And that, my dear ones, is how we rocket straight to the top of everyone’s list. Happy birthday to you, Erik.”

The staff all clap and Erik grins as everyone goes back to their stations. Emma walks over, wide grin still in place, “So, this is why you didn’t want to close.”

He laughs, glad she hadn’t called too much attention to his birthday. She knows he doesn’t really like to do much, or have anyone know about it, but she’s always made a point to mention it at least once, even if she says it jokingly. He shakes his head at her, “It’s like before. People still need food, tastes change. In this case, the taste doesn’t matter, but presentation and sound do. It’s a theater now, they come for entertainment and fun.”

Raven walks over and hugs him, “This is great. I wasn’t sure at first when Emma said you wanted to keep things open, but this is great, Erik.”

“Thank you, Raven.”

“So,” she begins, raising a brow, “Do we need to have a conversation about my brother?”

He stares, “Now? You want to give me the talk now?”

“Well, yeah,” she tells him, shrugging, “but only because Hank and Charles should be here soon and I need to kill some time.”

“They’re coming here?” Erik’s eyes widen. Charles hadn’t said anything about coming by tonight. It was near closing, which meant less people, so he should be able to take a break, but usually he would let him know if he was coming by. At least that’s what he’s been doing for the last two months. After the loss of taste, everything evened out, and people went back into the world, slowly, but steadily. Now, two months after, it was almost like taste had never been. He and Charles had been spending more and more time with each other, though the other man had still been caught up at the lab on occasion, but they made it work. He loves Charles, he knows that, but hasn’t been ready to say it yet. He loves it when the other man calls him darling, loves it when he can’t stop talking about a project they had been working on, just loves everything that makes him Charles. Even the things that annoy him, like the academic journals lying around on every surface, or the way his feet were always cold, endear Charles to him.

“Aww,” Raven teases, “Little Erik got all flustered.”

He feels his cheeks redden, “He didn’t say anything.”

“I think that’s what a surprise is supposed to be,” Emma says, casting a glare toward Raven, “Except someone had to go and spoil it.”

Raven flinches, “Sorry, I didn’t even think about it, just kind of figured Erik would know. Charles is usually good about that.”

“Not this time, apparently,” Emma says, huffing out a breath, “The boy probably wanted to surprise Erik, maybe he has flowers, or has some sexy new lingerie to try out.”

“Emma!” Erik yelps, “Can you stop?”

The staff close enough to hear titter as they rush off to seem busier than they are. He hopes the redness goes away before Charles gets here. Naturally, his luck would be off. He hears a commotion at the front of the kitchen and sees Hank standing in the doorway to the main floor. No Charles though. He waits a few seconds before going over, when Charles still doesn’t show.

Hank looks up at him, grinning as he extends a hand, “Erik, nice to see you again.”

Erik accepts his hand, giving it a firm shake before moving his hand to rub the back of his neck, “You too, Hank. Er, Raven said Charles was coming with you? He hadn’t said, and he hasn’t come in.”

Hank grins, “Charles knows his sister very well. She told you, didn’t she?”

“Yes,” Erik nods, smiling, “I’m not at all surprised Charles was expecting it. Where is he?”

“Waiting for you at his apartment,” Hank tells him, voice lowered, “You might want to get out of here as soon as you can, otherwise I think Raven will corner you to find out what’s going on.”

He grins as he grabs his things from the office, kissing Emma on the cheek as he rushes by, “I’m leaving for the day. Let everyone they can leave once they’ve cleaned up their stations. Thank you, and good night.”

Emma doesn’t have time to say anything as he just runs out. He bypasses his motorcycle and goes to the back door to Charles’s building. Charles had given him a spare access card just last week. He had forgotten his wallet when he and Charles had gone to work, so Charles had to come back to let him in for it. Since then, they’ve exchanged keys. He likes to think that it’s an excuse to say that it’s just in case they leave something at the others, that they just feel comfortable enough now that they don’t mind dropping in on each other. Like now. He lets himself in and makes his way to Charles’s apartment. He knocks before letting himself in. The living room is dark, but for the candles littered around on every surface. Erik thinks his face will split if he grins any wider. There’s a card on the dining room table with his name on it. He opens it and reads the note inside.

 

> _Erik,_  
>  _Happy birthday you bugger. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me yourself. I had to find out from Emma when she surprised me by asking what I’d gotten for you. Thankfully, I know you. Come find me if you want your gift._  
>  _~Charles_

Erik chuckles. Of course Emma would give it away. He sheds his jacket and sets his wallet and keys on the table with the note. He hopes this gift is what he’s thinking, otherwise he might feel embarrassed when he walks in naked. He takes his shirt off and tosses it to the floor. He goes into the bedroom, but the lights are off. There’s only the soft glow of the bathroom light. Erik stalks forward, unbuttoning his slacks and letting them fall where they are, not worried about wrinkles or anything other than finding his lover. He walks into the bathroom, still wearing his boxers, to find Charles reclined in the steaming tub. There are bubbles surrounding him. He steps inside the doorway, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the door jamb, “Found you.”

Charles lazily opens his eyes and smiles up at him, “Surprise!”

Erik chuckles and steps farther into the room, slipping his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and letting the last article of clothing fall. Charles shifts forward, gesturing for Erik to sit behind him, so he does. He moves around, stepping one foot in, next to Charles’s hip, then the other, on the other side, bracing his arms on the sides of the tub as he lowers himself down. He and Charles shift more until they find a comfortable position with Charles leaning back against his chest. He absently picks up a wash cloth and wraps it around a bar of soap before running it leisurely over Charles’s chest, and down his stomach. Charles hums and closes his eyes again. Erik rests his lips against his temple and starts humming “happy birthday”. Charles chuckles and lifts a hand to brush against his face, “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to me say anything. Emma said you don't want anyone to make a deal out of it. I thought the note was fine, but I didn’t want to push it.”

“I love it,” Erik whispers into his hair, “Thank you.”

Charles turns so his ear is to Erik’s chest, “Not even a little bit of a problem, darling.”

They were both quiet, basking in each other’s company just as much as the hot water. Erik ran the wash cloth over Charles, this time washing more than soothing, “My parents used to throw me birthday parties. It’s just seemed like too much trouble since they’ve been gone.”

“Never too much trouble,” Charles corrects him, “but I know it must have been hard. We don’t have to celebrate your birthday. I also just thought I’d use this as an excuse for us to be able to relax and be together.”

“You were right to do it,” Erik agrees, “This is the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.”

Charles turns a little more so he can look Erik in the face, running a hand across Erik’s jaw, “Want some help shaving this off?”

Erik nods, tilting his head toward his shaving kit on the counter, “I use a straight razor, so you’ll have to be careful. You’ll also have to get out of the tub.”

Chuckling, Charles stands and quickly steps over to grab the shaving kit before dropping back into the tub, this time facing him. Erik is impressed by how efficiently Charles is about preparing the kit. He sharpens the razor using the strop in the case, and quickly whips the shaving cream up before applying it with the brush. He almost grins when he realizes that Charles is humming while he applies the cream. He’s quick but firm as he runs the razor across his cheek, using his other hand to angle Erik’s jaw this way or that, making sure he gets everything. Once he’s finished, he gives the blade a final rinse and beams at him. Erik returns the smile, leaning forward to feel that smile against his lips. One kiss turns into two, then three, and then he’s lost count. He reaches out for the shaving cream, “Your turn.”

Charles tilts his head back and lets Erik apply the cream, snickering when it tickles his nose. Erik boops his nose with the brush, earning another laugh. He leans forward and licks the cream off, humming at the feel of it before turning the brush toward Charles, offering, “Here, try this.”

Charles looks at him like he’s gone nuts, but his eyes shine with happiness as he leans forward to try it. His eye brows go up and he grabs the brush, “Hmm, that’s good.”

“Soft, like whipped cream,” Erik says, then reaches for the soap with a grin, “What about this?”

“No,” Charles laughs, “Don’t.”

Erik rakes his teeth along the bar of soap, feeling the slide of it along his teeth. He’s almost giddy with happiness, “What would you say if I asked you to go dancing?”

“Yes,” Charles replies without pause, smile still there.

“What would you say,” Erik begins, leaning forward to nip along Charles’s collarbone, “if I asked if you want to go listen to some music?”

“Yes,” Charles replies again, letting out a pleased sigh, not hesitating yet again.

“Even without taste, there are pleasures in the world around us,” Erik tells him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone.

“Then let’s have them,” Charles agrees, leaning forward to take a bite of the soap too, “All of them.”

Erik takes another bite before leaning forward to kiss Charles, who is now laughing. Their lips meet, tongues tangling, but Charles pulls away, spitting soap. They both start laughing hard. Charles squirts some of the lather from his mouth, some hitting Erik in the face, but he can’t stop laughing. He’s laughing even when he tells Charles, “There’s soap in my eye!”

He falls forward in laughter, rubbing his eye as he clutches Charles close. Truly, this is the best birthday he can remember having for quite some time. He thinks about how he doesn't need cake or a big celebration when he has Charles.

* * *

Charles leans heavily against Erik’s chest as they sway to the music. Charles had pulled out his record player earlier and they’ve been putting on different albums every few songs, only wanting to play their favorites before moving on to the next. He rests his cheek against Erik’s heart, closing his eyes as he listens to the beat. Strong. Steady. That's his Erik. They sway until the music stops and Erik moves away to put on a new album. When he turns back to Charles, he smiles, dancing his way back. Charles is delighted in how lighthearted Erik is tonight. He takes the hands held out to him and allows the taller man to pull him back against him, back to chest, as they sway some more. He bites his lip before suggesting, “Let's play a game.”

“What game is that?” Erik’s voice rumbles against his ear.

“I call it ‘make me yours’,” Charles tells him, “And the rules are simple. You just have to tell me something.”

“Tell you something?” Erik sounds skeptical.

“Something true, about you, that no one else knows. Something secret. Something to make me yours,” Charles insists.  
Erik doesn’t say anything, seeming to consider it, “I don’t know what to say.”

“Alright,” Charles concedes, “I’ll go first then.”

He trails off so he can think of a good one. Something no one knows about him. Oh. He knows. He clears his throat, “When I was little, my father used to test his experiments on me.”

Erik leans back to look at him, letting him continue, “I was a genius, and he made it all seem like a game for a while. At first it was all mental, just things like puzzles and pictures. Then, after he had gotten enough data there, they started doing physical tests. I was being brought in regularly to get my blood drawn, having to go through an entire physical every month. They had be do endurance tests. The last thing he said to me before he died was that he thought I was special, but it turned out that I wasn’t, not even a little. He crashed his car later that night. I’ve always wondered if I was part of it, or if it really was just his drinking.”

Erik presses a kiss to his forehead, “Thank you for sharing that with me.”

They’re silent just seconds before Erik speaks again, “I was married, once, years ago.”

Charles is taken aback. He wasn’t expecting something like that. Married?

Erik continues, “Her name was Magda.”

To a woman?

“We weren’t in love,” he tells him, “but my parents and hers wanted the union between the families and we liked each other enough. She fell pregnant almost immediately. We both knew it wasn’t mine. She knew I was gay, my parents didn't. They wouldn’t have approved. They were wonderful people, but they were also tied closely with their old ways. Sometimes I think it’s easier that they’re gone, then I kick myself for days for even thinking it.”

“Oh, Erik,” Charles can’t help but say.

“It’s alright,” Erik rubs a hand up his back, “I don’t feel that so much anymore, but it used to be terrible. Anyway. Magda got pregnant but wouldn’t tell me who the father was. She wanted to continue on as we had, wanted me to take on the baby as mine. I would have, too.”

Silence.

“During her third month, Magda decided to tell the father that she was pregnant. She said that she had tried, but couldn’t keep it from him, that she wanted him to have the choice. It turns out that the father was married to someone else. He threatened her, demanded she have it terminated. When she refused, he pushed her down the stairs. She lost the baby. It wasn’t long after that that she was killed in a bank robbery. My parents were killed in the same one,” he swipes absently at the tears on his face.

“I’m so sorry, Erik,” Charles huddles close against him, his hands smoothing against his cheeks, wiping away any tears that fall. They’re silent as they comfort each other. Charles gives him a watery smile, “It works. You’re making me yours more and more. Just as I've made you mine. Not even Raven knows about my father.”

“Good,” Erik says before taking his lips.

They don’t make it out that night, instead they comfort each other through touch, through soft reassurances. It’s enough to know he feels loved, even if Erik doesn’t say it. He knows the other man has to feel it. He feels it in every touch, every caress. Charles tries to make sure Erik feels it from him too. Softening just a bit more so he knows there’s nowhere else he’d rather be than here, with him. Only him.

* * *

Charles, Hank, and Moira are huddled around the computer, a video chat open in front of them. Alex and Armando are down in the lab, working the rest of the samples instead of joining in on the videoconference. The man on the screen is a colleague from Thailand who had emailed requesting the conference due to a major development. The screen kept breaking up so they only caught bits and pieces of what he was saying.

“-situation in Bangkok-”

“-found several cases already-”

“-call it Severe Hearing Loss Syndrome-”

“-still do not know much about it-”

“-anger, hate, rage-”

“-then they go deaf-”

Hank scratches his chin, “How does it spread?”

“-can’t hear you very well, but-”

“-not know what to do-”

“-tell me what to do-”

“-are you standing there looking at me? You help us now!”

“-help us-”

“-quick-”

The three of them watch as the doctor starts yelling and throwing things, unable to turn away from the destruction he’s wreaking. Charles eventually steps forward and shuts the laptop. He glances at Moira and Hank. Moira’s eyes are wide and there’s such fear in her eyes that he almost can’t stand it. He looks at Hank, hoping for some direction.

Hank shakes his head, “I think it’s okay for us to panic now. There’s no way we can keep this quiet, not if that’s the level of anger and destruction we’re looking at. If it’s anything like the others, then it’s contagious, and there’s not really a way to quarantine against it. There’s nothing to do but wait.”

Charles closes his eyes, “And panic.”

Moira nods, “I’m panicking.”

“Everyone will be soon,” Hank says, but it sounds like a promise.

* * *

_**And that’s what happens. The world panics. Severe Hearing Loss Syndrome spreads from Thailand across India and China, to Russia, and beyond. Anger. Rage. Hated. And then the loss of another sense. Those affected create chaos and destruction, and those unaffected can only wait for it to take them too.** _

* * *

Erik tightens his arms around Charles, cuddling him closer, nosing behind his ear. They’re lying in bed, both thinking back to the news of the rapid spread of Severe Hearing Loss Syndrome. They’d both shed tears earlier at the thought of the inevitability of losing their hearing, but they were both reading up on sign language, as well as alternative modes of communication. So far, they’ve come up with the idea of tying dry erase boards around their necks. He feels tears slide down his cheeks again at the thought of it. Charles shivers, and he knows he feels the tears against the nape of his neck.

“I can’t very well say it’s going to be okay,” Charles begins, “because we both know that it’s not. The best I can do is tell you that I’m here.”

Erik’s hold constricts even more, “Thank you, for being here with me.”

“There’s not much to do elsewhere, not anymore,” Charles tells him, then turns around quickly, a look of horror on his face,

“Not that I’d rather be anywhere else. I just meant-”

Erik chuckles and stops him with a finger over his swollen lips. He runs his other hand through Charles’s hair, massaging as he went, “I know what you meant. That’s why I’m here too. I want to spend as much time with you as I can, when I can. I want to hear your voice, so I can call it up in my memory when we’re writing back and forth, or typing, or signing. I want to remember how you say things. I want to remember everything. What if, some day soon, I’ll need to do this with your face, your features, your hair? What if I won’t be able to see or hear you? What happens then? When does this stop? Will we lose sensation in our skin? Will touch be next, after hearing, or will we no longer see first?”

Charles shushes him, running a hand over the back of his head and down his spine, “It’s overwhelming when you start to think like that. You won’t be able to think about anything else if you think that way. Don’t go there. Not yet. Not when we still have time.”

Erik nods, resting his forehead against Charles’s, “You’re right. I can’t let it get to me like that. We have to keep going.”  
Charles pushes him to lie on his back, cuddling up to his side, wrapping his arms around Erik as he does the same, “Right now, in this moment, we’re fine. You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

“Mine,” Erik kisses along his hairline, closing his eyes but knowing he won’t be getting any sleep, not right now. And he’s sure Charles is having the same problem. There’s nothing for it, he decides. All he can do is keep him close. Memorize everything about him. He blinks quickly, sitting up straight. Charles gasps at the suddenness of it and leans up on his elbows, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Erik tells him, rushing across the room to his desk. This time, they’re at his house, which he’s glad for because…“Ah hah!”

Erik pulls out an old Polaroid camera. It was his mother’s. She used to take it everywhere they went. He pulled out a spare package of film, too. She had stocked up, wanting to be able to take as many photographs as she wanted without having to worry about buying more film. Charles was sitting up now, a baffled smile on his face, “What’s that?”

“My mother’s old Polaroid,” Erik grins, moving back to sit against the headboard beside Charles, “I figured it might be best to take a few pictures, you know, for posterity.”

Charles is laughing in the first one he takes. His own face is half cut off because it’s hard holding a bulky camera like that out so far. He tries time and again until they get several that he likes. His favorite is one where he had surprised Charles by licking the side of his face and Charles was mid laugh and he was grinning at the side of his face. Charles’s favorite is one of them staring into each other’s eyes, both wearing giant grins. They each keep one. That’s how Erik will remember them. Happy. In love. Even though neither will say it yet, both too afraid of what will happen after.

* * *

“Alright, everyone,” Hank says, bringing the group to order. Charles, Moira, Alex, Armando, and Hank are meeting in the conference room to discuss the progression of SHLS. Hank clears his throat, “The incubation period is dropping rapidly. It started at about 24 hours, but now it’s down to 10 and still dropping. This one is very aggressive.”

“Are we still sticking with the plan we came up with last year for SOS?” Alex asks, earning nods from Moira and Armando for the question.

“There’s nothing else we can do,” Hank tells them, “We haven’t learned anything new since we first started looking into SOS, and this is really the best plan we have. We sat around this table specifically to discuss procedures for if or when it happened with the other senses, and now it’s time to implement the plan for grand scale hearing loss.”

Everyone looks around at each other. This was their worst case scenario plan. Well, not quite, but they know that will soon be implemented as well, if things continue as they are. Charles’s phone buzzes, making everyone jump. He checks it while Hank continues, “So, what we need to do is meet with city officials, those who haven’t yet been affected, and ensure that they know what needs to be done. Isolate those affected, hopefully before they have too much contact with others, but also be ready for everyone else. They’ll need to have volunteers for food delivery to all quarantined houses, using sheets from the window to show who is affected. There should be notices on the doors, listing the number of occupants so they know how many meals to deliver.”

Charles raises his hand, earning snickers from Armando and Alex, and a chagrined look from Hank, “Charles, why are you raising your hand?”

He flushes, “I just wanted to make sure I had everyone’s attention.”

“You have it,” Moira tells him, one brow raised, “What is it?”

“I just received an email from Marie in Berlin. She says there’s a child there who was born with all its senses,” His eyes are large as he considers what that could mean, “There might be a chance of antibodies.”

Everyone has hope in their eyes, but they daren’t let it out. A little hope is a good thing, but relying on that hope will only fail them in the end.

* * *

Erik pulls up outside the back entrance to the restaurant, only to find the staff gathered around in the alley. He steps down, tucking his helmet under the seat. Emma and Raven come over, Emma gesturing to Charles’s apartment building, “They say someone’s affected on the third floor.”

Erik sighs, “Shit.”

“Yeah,” Raven nods, then tilts her head to the restaurant, “They’ve been going through the surrounding buildings to see if anyone else is affected.”

“And making us wait out here in this terrible weather,” Emma complains, folding her arms across her chest.  
Erik can’t hide the smile at how completely “Emma” that remark is, “Alright, Princess, let’s find out what’s going on then, shall we?”

He walks toward the back door, but is stopped when two town officials step out, one asks, “Who owns this restaurant?”

Erik nods, “That’d be me.”

“You’re shutting down.”

“What?” Erik asks, feeling anger rise, “You’re joking, right?”

“Sorry,” the man says, appearing like he actually is sorry, “Everywhere is shutting down. City Council wants to hire you and your staff to cook for the quarantined. We’ve got thousands of people shut up in their homes, city buildings. They can’t exactly go out and get food, but they need to be fed three times a day.”

The other man holds out a sheet of paper, “Here’s what you’ll be making. Menu and budget.”

Emma sneers, “Municipal food?”

“Other restaurants are and will do this, if you don’t want the job, just say no and you can go about doing…oh wait, you won’t be able to work since you’re shut down.”

“Asshole!” Emma growls, but Erik holds her back when she tries to lunge for the man, telling them, “Alright, we get it. We’ll do it”

The other man looks chagrined at his partners manner, “We’re just trying to do our jobs, keep things working. Can I get your number? We can let you know once we’ve cleared the building and can get supplies to you.”

Erik nods and walks over to write his information on the paper on the man’s clipboard, “That’s me. I can start calling around once we’ve gotten the go ahead.”

“Thank you for your patience and understanding,” the other man tells him, “It’s a rough time for all of us, and I know we’re all just trying to keep our heads above the water.”

“I’ll be waiting for my filet,” is the parting shot by the asshole before he’s shuffled away by the other man.  
Emma glares after them, turning back to Erik, “That’s it. We’re making protein shakes.”

“Protein shakes would be better than this,” he says after reading through the menu, handing if off to Raven, shaking his head.  
Raven sighs after looking it over, “At least we’ve still got work.”

“There is that, I suppose,” Erik says, watching Emma as she drifts closer to Azazel. She walks up to him, standing in front of him until he gathers her close. It makes Erik yearn for Charles. Shit. Charles. He looks back at the apartment building, “Shit.”  
Raven looks at him, questioning, then follows his eyes, “Oh. Shit.”

“Right,” Erik runs a hand over his face, “He can stay with me.”

“Oh,” she breathes out, “Erik, you don’t have to. Hank and I will always welcome him.”

“I want to,” he tells her, a grin on his face. He looks around again, then claps his hands together to get everyone’s attention,

“Alright. Since it looks like we won't be getting anything done today, go home. Until we get supplies from the city and they clear our building, we can’t do anything, so go home. Be with your families until this passes.”

Everyone is slow to leave, hugging and saying goodbye. Emma gives him a tight hug before taking Azazel’s hand and leading him to her car. Raven stands beside him, watching everyone go, “You’re stuck with me for a bit. Hank’s been dropping me off. It was too much to expect Charles to keep taking a cab to the hospital, so Hank’s been picking him up and dropping me off on their way to the hospital.”

Erik nods, “I was planning on waiting here for Charles anyway. He forgot his phone at mine this morning.”

“That’s adorable,” Raven coos, then holds up her own phone, “I can always call Hank and see if they’re still working.”  
Chuckling, he nods, “Alright.”

He can hear Raven’s side of the conversation and can’t help but grin as she reassures Hank that they’re all fine, but that he should bring Charles too. She doesn’t want to tell him over the phone. She hangs up and turns to Erik, blushing when she sees the grin on his face, grumbling, “Shut up. You’re worse when it’s Charles.”

“I know,” he still grins, “and you give me shit every time, so it’s great that it’s my turn.”

She gives his shoulder a shove as they walk to stand underneath the overhang. The rain was still a drizzle, but if they’re going to be waiting out here, it’s best to be out of it. She puts an arm around his waist, “They’ll be here soon. Hank said they were just finishing up a meeting with some city officials and then they’ll be straight over.”

Erik hugs her back, “Good. Then we can get away from this mess for a bit.”

* * *

Charles practically jumps out of the car before Hank can put it in park, running over to Erik and Raven, who are huddled together, “Are you two okay? Is everyone else alright? What happened? Why are you out here? You could’ve waited in my apartment, why aren’t you waiting in my apartment?”

Erik steps forward and cradles his cheeks in his large hands, careful not to dislodge the mask covering his mouth and nose,

“Charles. Calm down. Breathe.”

Charles stops, taking several deep breaths, “Okay. I’m fine. Are you? Fine?”

“Yes,” Erik chuckles, stepping close until their bodies brush, leaning his forehead against his own, “I’m fine. Better than fine now that you’re here. We just have a bit of a problem.”

“Problem?” Charles echoes, “What problem?”

“We’ve been shut down,” Raven chimes in, one arm looped through Hank’s as she takes the face mask he’s holding out to her,

“We’ve been hired to make food for those in quarantine, but we can’t start until they clear the building.”

“Does someone have SHLS?” Charles demands, running his hands along every bit of Erik as he can, even though he knows it’s pointless, there’s nothing to feel that would tell him something is wrong, but it soothes him to do it.

There are announcements being made through what must be a megaphone, cautioning people to stay away from anyone showing symptoms. Aggression and anger being the biggest two. Charles tucks himself closer against Erik, arms going around his waist. He knows it’s only a matter of time before they’re hit by the disease, but he can’t stand the thought. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out another mask, like the ones he and Hank are wearing, and gives it to Erik, helping him put it on.

Erik rubs his hands up and down along his spine, “Someone in your building, they’ve said on the third floor, has been affected. You are officially homeless, at least for the time being. I wanted to wait to see if you want to come home with me, or if you’d rather go with Raven and Hank. Whichever you prefer.”

Charles buries his covered nose in Erik’s neck while he considers. This has to be his favorite place on Erik. He’s sensitive here, and it makes him feel safe, surrounded by Erik. He leans back to look into Erik’s eyes, “With you. I want to stay with you.”

Erik smiles, Charles can tell by the lines around his eyes, and nods, hands still moving along his back, “We can do that.”

Charles looks around, finding Raven and Hank already making their way back to the car. Raven looks at him, teasing him, “Oh, I get it. Don’t worry, big brother, I don’t take it personally.”

He feels relieved at the reassurance, “Thank you, Raven. And you, Hank, for bringing me.”

“Anytime,” Hank tells him, opening the door for Raven before moving around to the driver’s side, “You know that.”  
They pull away, Raven waving through the windshield, and then they’re gone. Charles turns back to Erik, “Should we get out of here?”

“I’d love nothing more,” Erik takes his hand, pressing it to his covered lips before leading him to his motorcycle. He unpacks the helmet and hands it to Charles before climbing on, turning back to him, “Well? Are you getting on, or what?”

Charles puts the helmet on, careful to get it over his mask, and gets on behind Erik. He’s always loved riding with Erik. The man is so controlled, so powerful, especially here. They rode through the streets and Charles could see, yet again, the sheer destruction this disease is causing. There are cars on fire, people yelling, loud bangs. It’s only when they’ve stopped at a light that he also notices how quiet things are. He taps Erik on the shoulder and speaks directly into his ear, “Can you shut this off for a second?”

He does. They sit and listen. They hear the chiming of a clock tower, screams, glass shattering, but none of the usual sounds of the city. There aren’t even very many cars on the road. Erik turns to him, “Are we ready?”

Charles nods and puts his arms back around Erik’s waist, “Yes. Please take us home.”

Erik does exactly that. He maneuvers around any potentially problematic encounters, getting them home faster than Charles had considered possible. He shuts the motorcycle off when they pull into the driveway, letting Charles get off first before helping him remove the helmet and tucking it back in its place under the seat. Their hands meet again and Erik leads him inside, locking the door behind him, peering out the front windows to make sure no one is following after them. Charles smiles behind his mask when Erik turns back to him, coming over and leaning down, their covered lips touching. Smiles widening at the feel of fabric between them. Charles chuckles and steps back, pulling the mask off, “Do you mind if I go wash up real quick? I’ve been at the hospital all day.”

Erik removes his mask and smiles, leaning forward to touch press a kiss to Charles’s forehead before walking toward the kitchen, “Go ahead. I’ll make some lunch. You know where the towels are, and help yourself to any clothes. Don’t forget your phone. It’s on the dresser.”

Charles loves wearing Erik’s clothes, “Thanks, I’ll be ten minutes.”

He showers quickly, wanting to get back to Erik. He doesn’t bother to dry his hair more than to make sure it won’t drip before pulling on a t-shirt and one of Erik’s old university sweatshirts with a fresh pair of boxers and the jeans he was wearing earlier. He grabs his phone and, after checking his messages, shoves it in his pocket before walking back out, immediately going to the kitchen. Erik is standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot when he comes up behind him, wrapping his arms around him and resting his cheek between his shoulder blades, “I love this. It feels so domestic. I can’t believe we’re living together now.”

“Yes,” Erik’s voice sounds a little strange, “Living together. Shall we play a game? Maybe your ‘make me special’ game? We could play house.”

Erik turns around, dislodging Charles from his back, hands grabbing at his arms to hold him still, “We could fuck.”

Charles’s eyes go wide, “Erik, what are you-”

“That’s all you’re good for, isn’t it?” Erik asks, his voice louder, “A fuck. What’s it matter who it is, it could be anyone really. You’re nothing special.”

Charles pulls away, moving backwards, trying to get away from Erik. Intellectually, he knows what’s going on, but he can’t stop from feeling hurt by it.”

Erik continues, “You’re hardly around anyway. Maybe I should just go out and find someone who would be. You’re off playing doctor at the hospital, pretending that you’re important, that you’re doing something, but you’re nothing. You’re just a little lab rat who grew up. You’re just a fuck. That’s all it is. Like a protein shake. All I need is someone to lie there and take it. Nothing special about a little lab rat grown up.”

Charles is shaking when Erik starts to throw things. He tunes out what the other man is yelling and runs for the door. He hit every one of his weak spots. He keeps trying to reassure himself that he knows it’s the disease, just the disease making him say these things. He walks down the street, his mind in a whirl. He’s aimless, walking around for hours. At one point, he runs.

* * *

Erik comes to, leaning against the wall in his bedroom. He blinks, feeling drained. His jaw feels sore and he works the muscles, then calls out for Charles. Nothing. He tries again. Nothing. He claps his hands, desperate for anything. Still nothing. He had never considered how frightening it would be, not being able to hear. He stands, shaking off…debris. He doesn’t know what happened, doesn’t remember anything. The last thing he remembers is the feel of Charles’s arms around his waist. Where is he? He wanders through his house, shocked at the destruction. The rage. He remembers feeling rage, but nothing beyond that. He straightens things up as he walks through the house. Not surprised that Charles is gone, but disappointed that he’s not. He doesn’t blame him, based on the mess, he knows he must have scared Charles. It would have been horrible, he’s seen the news broadcasts showing what happened when someone was affected. Now, all he can think about is finding Charles. He needs to know he’s okay, that he’s safe. Or as safe as he can be. He practically runs for the door, throwing it open only to find two men wearing protective suits gesturing for him to go back inside, holding up signs.

 

> _IF YOU ARE DEAF, PLEASE STAY INSIDE. HANG A SHEET FROM YOUR WINDOW. FOOD AND WATER WILL BE BROUGHT TO YOU._

That just won’t work. He shakes his head and tries to push past them, but they grab him and start dragging him back. He’s screaming, yelling for them to stop, trying to get them to understand that he needs to get to Charles, but they keep pushing, dragging until he stops resisting and give him one last push to go back inside. He does. He’ll wait. Wait until they’re gone, and then he’ll go find Charles.

For the time being, he decides to clean up some of the mess. Maybe he can find his phone, can at least speak to Charles. He doesn’t need to be able to hear, but hopes that Charles still can. That he will hear him out. That he’ll return to him.

* * *

He runs until he reaches the hospital, not sure how he ended up here, but glad he did. He walks through the deserted hallways to the lab, only calling out when he gets down there, “Is anyone here? Can anyone hear me?”

Hank pokes his head out from his office a few doors down, surprise on his face, “Charles, what are you doing here? I thought you went home with Erik.”

Charles laughs bitterly, “I did.”

“Oh,” Hank understands right away what must have happened, “You have to remember, Charles, it’s the disease. It makes animals out of us all.”

“I know,” he tells him, tears in his eyes, “but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt.”

Hank nods, “I know. Do you want company, or do you want to be alone?”

“I’d rather be alone, if you don’t mind,” Charles tells him, waiting for a nod before walking into the lab and sitting at his station.

* * *

Erik sits on his couch, staring at the wall. Waiting. He found his phone, but it was dead, so now it’s a matter of waiting for it to charge. He jumps at the touch to his shoulder, turning to find another man in a suit, holding out a container, bringing his hand to his mouth. From the news broadcasts, all done in text rather than visuals, he knows this to be the sign for “eat”. There had been an announcement on the television earlier telling everyone who is deaf to stay home, that it was safest there, along with the messages to leave a sheet out a window, and that someone would be by with food, so he had been expecting someone, but hadn’t known when they would be by. He takes the container with a huff, reading the label.

 

> _PASTA DINNER – SINGLE PORTION_

He tosses it onto the coffee table. Maybe his phone is charged enough. He gets up to check it.

* * *

Charles is walking around the lab, pacing, when his phone rings, making him jump. He had forgotten about his phone. He pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen.

 

> _ERIK CALLING_

He accepts the call, not saying anything, just waiting.

“Charles,” Erik’s voice sounds different, not just sad, but like he’s had a little to drink and isn’t aware of what he’s saying.

Then again, he’s lost his hearing by now, so it makes sense. The brain still knows what it’s saying, but doesn’t know how it’s being said.

“Charles,” he says again, “I’m so sorry.”

Charles puts the phone on speaker and sets it down, putting his head in his hands, tears rolling down his cheeks.

“I hope you can hear me. Whatever I said to you,” there’s a soft sob, “anything I said, I don’t remember, but I know I couldn’t have meant it. I didn’t mean it. It wasn’t me. It was the disease.”

Charles laughs bitterly and tosses the phone to the table beside him, dropping his head to his hands again, he mutters to himself, “It wasn’t you. It. Was. Not. You. It’s the disease. The nature of the disease. It’s not me.”

He laughs again, then says angrily, “It’s not me. It’s nobody. There’s nobody here. Nothing. It’s the disease. What disease? I don’t see it. Which disease? Where is it? Where are you? Where are you hiding you bloody arsehole!”

He shoves at the papers on the desk, knocking them to the floor. The computer is next, sparking as he slams it to the ground. He is so lost to his rage and anger that he can only distantly hear Erik, still on the phone, “Please. Please come back to me. Come home. I didn’t mean it. Please believe me.”

“Believe you!” Charles rages, shoving the table that was his station over on its side, everything skittering across the floor.

“Please, Charles,” Erik pleads, “I love you.”

“Everyone is a LIAR!” Charles walks over to the phone and throws it to the floor, shattering it, pieces flying everywhere. A red haze covers his vision and he can’t remember anything else.

* * *

_**The hatred and anger released by SHLS create a radical shift in the way people behave, how they treat others. It creates a rift, not only between loved ones, but for the whole of humanity itself. But life continues on. It must.** _

* * *

 


	5. Part 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's this and a short epilogue left. I hope you enjoy. Also, if you're music folk, here's a song I listened to on repeat literally the entire time I was writing this. It's from the movie Perfect Sense, and it fit perfectly within the film, I hope it fits well with my version of it. So, without further ado, here is the final chapter.
> 
> Song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7N3g771ScF4 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Perfect Sense

* * *

SIGHT

* * *

Charles wakes up to find himself in the midst of destruction. He winces at the residual feel of anger, but knows it’s draining out of him. He feels a strange tightness in his jaw, a soreness, and he tries to speak. He hears nothing. Just as he thought. It’s strange to wake up with a fuzzy head and no sound. He brushes himself off and stands. He looks around for his phone and can’t find it. He vaguely remembers a call from Erik, but feels a pain in his heart at the thought. He walks out of the lab, trying to be as alert as he can in case there’s someone else about. He remembers Hank and goes to his office. He walks in to see the normally mild mannered man throwing books across the room. He walks up to Charles and is, from all appearances, yelling at him. Charles can’t help the wince, but walks out of the room, shutting the door behind him. He figures that he can stay around and wait for Hank to wear himself out. Then they can go home. Home. He feels a pang to think that he doesn’t mean Erik’s house, but his sister’s. He feels panic creep in when he thinks about Raven. Is she alright? Has it hit her? Oh God, what about Kurt? He forces himself to sit against the wall outside Hank’s office to wait. That’s all he can do right now. Wait.

* * *

Erik decides that he can’t just sit around his house and gets up. He can go find Charles. He _has to_ find Charles. He has to make sure he understands. That he knows how much Erik loves him. Even if he can’t find Charles, he needs to go to the restaurant. Needs to see what’s to be done there. He puts his jacket on, grabs his keys, and peeks out the front door. No one. Good. He steps outside, seeing a sign on his door. 

> _NO ENTRY BY COMPULSORY ORDER_

He’s not sure what else it says, but he tears it off the door, crumbling it up and throwing it to the side. He looks around as he walks down his driveway, seeing a bloody, destroyed safety suit at the end of the drive. He gets his helmet out, but looks at it. It would obstruct his vision, and that’s all he has now. He tosses it to the side too, climbing on his motorcycle. He used to love the purr of the engine, so it was strange not hearing it. He could _feel_ it though, and that made a difference. He drives slowly through the city, not stopping at any of the lights. He’s the only one on the road, so it doesn’t seem to matter. It takes longer than usual to get to the alley behind the restaurant, and Charles’s apartment, but he gets there. He looks up at Charles’s apartment, but there are no lights on. He runs his hands through his hair in frustration, but goes into the restaurant to see what’s happened there. It is, unsurprisingly, a mess. He walks hesitantly through the kitchen, unsure if anyone is still inside. He’s surprised to find Emma leaning against one of the counters, holding a baseball bat.

He walks over and gently puts a hand on her shoulder before stepping back. Her eyes fly open and she starts to swing the bat, stopping when she sees him. Her face crumbles and she bursts into tears. He pulls her close, automatically trying to comfort her with noises that he feels in his throat. Leaning back, he asks, exaggerating his mouth so she would be able to see what he’s saying even if she can’t hear, if she can hear him. She shakes her head, more tears running down her face, her mascara smudged around her eyes. He wipes her tears and pulls her head back to his shoulder, humming so she can feel the rumbling in his chest. Hoping it’s at least mildly comforting. He thinks that the rest of the staff will find their way back sooner or later, so he sinks down to the floor, keeping Emma close. They huddle together to wait. He feels like that’s all he’s been doing lately. Waiting.

* * *

Charles is curled up in the corner of the couch, now safely ensconced at Raven’s. When Hank came to, the two cautiously drove through the city to get home. Hank had written that Kurt had gone through the anger, that they had locked him in the bathroom, and that Raven had as well before he left for the lab. He left her and Kurt together in the bathroom once both had subsided. Knowing that he should stay away for when SHLS hit him. Now, they were all gathered around in the living room, watching the sign language program that was on instead of a news broadcast. Occasionally there would be an announcement to stay inside if you’re deaf. They’ve dutifully hung a sheet from the window to designate the house as a quarantined zone, and had received four pasta dinners when one of the volunteers stopped by earlier.

Hank is helping Kurt form his fingers into the shapes shown on the television, grinning and clapping when the boy gets it right, earning a laugh from the boy, pleased to be doing so well. They all had notepads and pens so they can communicate as well. There are certainly benefits of being prepared. Raven walks over and curls up into him on the couch, taking her notepad out and writing for a few seconds before turning it to Charles to read.

>   _HOW IS ERIK? WHAT HAPPENED?_

Charles shoves the notepad away, only to have Raven give it back to him, gesturing that he should write. He does. It takes him longer than it took her, but he’s trying to make sure it’s what he wants to say. He hands it back when he finishes. 

> _SHLS HIT HIM FIRST. THE THINGS HE SAID WERE ~~HORRIBLE~~  TRUE, BUT I COULDN'T STAY._

Raven raises a brow when she looks at him, writing again before showing him. 

> _YOU SAY IT'S TRUE, BUT THAT'S PROBABLY JUST YOU BEING INSECURE. YOU, BETTER THAN ANYONE, KNOW WHAT THIS DISEASE MAKES PEOPLE DO. YOU KNOW HE DIDN'T MEAN IT, IT WAS THE DISEASE._

Charles nods, feeling ashamed for leaving Erik alone, but he also knows that he couldn’t have stayed. He tells Raven that. 

> _EVEN KNOWING IT DOESN'T MEAN I'M PREPARED TO HEAR EVERY TERRIBLE THING I'VE EVER THOUGHT ABOUT MYSELF SCREAMED AT ME BY THE MAN I LOVE. I JUST NEEDED TO GET AWAY._

Raven nods, taking the notepad back and writing again. 

> _HAVE YOU CONSIDERED TEXTING HIM? GOING TO SEE HIM?_

Charles shakes his head, writing. 

> _I JUST CAN'T. NOT NOW. I NEED TIME._

Raven sighs. He can’t even hear it and he knows it’s in annoyance. She writes quickly before turning it back to him. 

> _BUT HOW LONG DO WE HAVE LEFT?_

He shakes his head and a tear rolls down his cheek. Raven puts her arms around him in a tight hug. He knows she’s right. He just can’t stand to think about it. Not what happened with Erik before or what will happen next.

* * *

_**There are two movements now. There are people who succumb to the chaos, who embrace and wreak their own brand of havoc. Looting and stealing. Fighting and yelling. Believing in nothing beyond the end of the world. Then there's the other movement. People who get up every morning, get ready, go to work. Farmers who go out to milk their cows, soldiers reporting for duty. Restaurant workers making food for those who can't go out to get it and volunteers going out to deliver that food. Those are the ones who believe that life will go on, somehow. Or else they just don't know what to do, so continue on, as they have before.** _

* * *

Erik is out back, within sight of the van driver, gesturing for him to continue backing up to the back door of the restaurant. They’ve finally been given an all clear to open the restaurant again, and this is the first delivery of “municipal food” as Emma calls it. They’re all unloading it from the truck, knowing they at least have a purpose in making meals for those who can’t leave home. Who don’t want to leave home.

It takes them a couple of days, but they manage to clean up the kitchen and get everything in good, working order again. If only Erik could say that about him and Charles. He hasn’t heard from Charles since he lost his hearing. Funny way to think of it, since he can’t hear from anyone now, but it’s a phrase that still works. He knows from Raven that he’s staying with her and Hank now, which he’s thankful for. When Raven gave him a tight hug and wrote that everything is going to be alright, he hadn’t been able to stop the tears from falling, only clutching tighter to her.

* * *

Charles walks into the hospital, smiling a little sadly at the staff already there, cleaning. He sees the signs hanging on the walls, giving basic sign language signs, as he makes his way to the lab. He can’t help but think it’s yet another sign of how resilient humans are. He walks into the lab to find that it’s already been cleaned, his papers stacked on his new desk, everything in order. He walks over to organize them and see a picture of him and Erik. It’s one of the Polaroids they took what seems like ages ago. They’re just looking into each other's eyes, so happy and in love. He knows that Erik’s confession on the phone was the truth, but he still hasn’t been able to bring himself to seek the man out. He feels ashamed for just leaving, for letting the disease trick his mind like this, but he still can’t find the strength to reach out.

* * *

It takes a few weeks, but things are back to normal in the kitchen. Or at least as normal as they can get now. There’s now a red light that blinks to signal a new order, and it’s all about visual appeal now. People are starting to go back out, to enjoy themselves with friends and family. They’ve learned to adapt. The kitchen staff all know basic sign language commands for orders and foods, and they’re all playing around with the food to see what creations they can come up with.

The red light flashes above Erik’s head. He looks up, wiping his hands on his apron and walking toward the order window, taking the ticket as it’s passed through. He hands it off to Raven, who is putting together the most beautiful desserts, using things she never would have thought to combine, and he can’t stop himself from placing a kiss on the side of her head before walking away. He needs to give himself a break, so he walks out to stand in the doorway to the dining area. He watches as those around him talk to each other, using sign language, notepads, or even dry erase boards. They’re moving on. He thinks that maybe he should too, but doesn’t know if he can.

Azazel and Emma come to him at the end of the night and invite him out to a club with them. He’s skeptical, but knows they just want to spend time with him, so he agrees. It’s only when they walk inside that he can feel it. He can feel the music. He walks forward, ignoring his friends in favor of the music. He leans against one of the speakers and almost feels alive again.

* * *

Charles and Moira are having an in depth conversation on their white boards about the validity of samples provided from the baby in Berlin while Alex, Armando, and Hank work on testing their samples. It feels almost like any normal day. And it is now. Normal.

Alex waves him over to take a look at his sample and work goes on.

* * *

**_People prepare for the worst, but hope for the best. They concentrate on the things that are important to them. Family, friends, art, nature, beauty. They have to if they want to continue on, if they want to concentrate on more than just protein shakes and getting through each day. If they want something to live for. And they do. They want to live for something. They want to_ live.**

* * *

 Charles can’t stop the grin on his face as he watches Hank bury his face into the fur of one of the test rabbits. They had made the decision to bring one home for Kurt to play with and the boy had been, and is still, delighted. Hank waves them all over to cuddle with it. Raven and Kurt go immediately, making Charles laugh at their eagerness. Tears in his eyes as they all close theirs and rub their faces against the soft fur. They’re a family. He loves them dearly, but he misses Erik so much. Erik had been his family too.

* * *

Erik stands outside in the alley, drinking Emma’s good whiskey, yelling and waving his arms at Charles’s darkened apartment. He knows no one can hear him, but the vibrations in his throat make him feel better, make him feel like he’s venting his anger in a good way. He throws the nearly empty bottle at the window but misses. He feels hands grab at him and spins around. Emma is standing in front of him, looking at him with a mixture of pity and sympathy. Azazel stands in the doorway to the kitchen, watching them both. Emma reaches for him but he shrugs her off, giving her a look of apology before he stalks away.

* * *

  _ **Once we thought that the ice age must have crept up slowly. Glaciers slowly spreading, temperatures dropping gradually. Recently, though, a number of intact mammoths have been discovered with their stomachs full of undigested grass. This tells us the complete opposite. The cold must have hit them like a shot. Too fast to see it coming. Too fast to stop it. And that's how this apocalypse comes upon humanity. That's how the darkness descends upon the world. But first, there are shining, special moments.** _

* * *

Erik wakes up, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. He looks around his bedroom and feels a hope so strong that he has to go along with it. Something about today has him needing to reach out to Charles. Even has he’s wanted to before, but now he believes that he’ll be accepted.

* * *

Charles stares at the pressed lily in his hand. He had kept it from their date, back before SHLS, before losing taste, before their misunderstanding. It represents one of the happiest days in his life. He looks at it and thinks about how he wants so many more. He thinks about how only Erik can do that for him.

* * *

  _**A shared moment, throughout the whole of humanity, of a renewed vigor for life.** _

* * *

Azazel steps outside to take a break from the kitchen and Emma follows him, wanting, no, needing to be close. He raises his arms to the sky with a grin. She can’t help but wrap her arms around him. He turns around and gathers her in his arms, picking her up and spinning her around. If anyone could hear, they would hear her laugh, her happiness and delight.

* * *

  _**A profound appreciation for what it means to truly be alive.** _

* * *

Alex and Armando hold the cart steady as Moira climbs on top, lying down, but holding tight. They all share grins as the men start running, holding on to the sides of the cart, releasing it to shoot down the hallway. Moira’s laugh can’t be heard, but it there would have been an echo throughout the halls.

* * *

  _**Most of all, though, a shared urge to reach out to one another. To share in an unabashed joy.** _

* * *

Hank and Raven have wide grins as they hug each other tight, smiling wider when Kurt come running in, jumping into their arms. Charles can see the happiness and love in all of them. He knows he needs to find Erik now. He can’t let him go any longer without knowing how much he’s loved. Charles can’t even remember why he hasn’t been with him before now.

* * *

_**To offer unconditional warmth, understanding, and acceptance.** _

* * *

Erik almost trips as he pulls his pants on while trying to get to the door. His shirt is rucked up and he pulls it down once he has his pants on correctly. He stops only to put on his shoes, grabbing his keys as he runs out the door, not bothering to shut it behind him in his rush to get to Charles. He hopes the man is finally home. That's the only place he knows to look.

* * *

Charles grabs the car keys from the dish by the door, running out with one last wave to his family. Walking would take far too long, even running would, so here he is. Stealing his sister’s car. He can’t imagine she’d object. He climbs in and starts it, backing slowly down the driveway. He should check the restaurant first. Raven said that Erik is always at the restaurant these days.

* * *

Erik rides through the city, seeing happiness everywhere he looks. He can’t help but grin with everyone else, feeling like they're cheering him on.

* * *

  _**To offer forgiveness and love.** _

* * *

Charles drives fast down the alley, breaking hard when he gets to the end. He climbs out of the car and runs into the kitchen, the door open, as if the universe is working to help him. He looks around and sees no one.

* * *

_**To be together with those you love, knowing there will be hard times ahead, but not caring. Wanting to embrace those happiest moments now, without care for what will happen in the future, be it near or distant.** _

* * *

Erik comes into the alley and sees Raven’s car, hope rising in him. Charles has finally come home. He rides up to the open back door to the apartment building, not even properly shutting off his motorcycle, just leaping off and dropping it once inside, not caring about the damage he may have done to it. All he can think about is Charles.

* * *

Where is he? Charles walks through the entire restaurant, unable to stop himself from calling out Erik’s name, even knowing he won’t be heard. Is there no one here? If he’s not here, where else could he be? He’s desperate now, feeling like he’s running out of time. Where is he? Where is Erik?

* * *

_**To know that you love.** _

* * *

Erik runs into Charles’s apartment, finding the unlocked door to be a good sign. Charles would never leave his door unlocked unless he was there. He looks around frantically, this need to find Charles growing more and more by the second, almost overwhelming him. He looks through the apartment, not finding him in the bedroom or bathroom, nor the kitchen. He walks into the living room, turning around to see if he’s missed something. No note, no bag, nothing. No Charles. He looks out the windows, hands in his hair, gripping tight in frustration when he sees him. There. Charles. He's running out of the restaurant, but…no. He’s getting back in the car. Erik bangs on the windows, yelling, waving his arms, and banging harder. He can’t go. Charles must not see him. He gives one last frantic wave before running back out of the apartment and down the stairs, out into the alley again. But it’s gone. The car is gone. Charles is gone. He looks around, spinning, but not finding anything. Charles is gone. He doesn’t know what to feel right now. He links his fingers together behind his neck as he tilts his head back to look toward the sky. He wants to feel happy, but without Charles, how can he? He wants to enjoy this beautiful day, the blue of the sky, the feel of the breeze on his face, but how can he if Charles is gone? He turns back around, to the mouth of the alley, and sees it. Raven’s car. It stops. He takes a cautious step toward it before he sees Charles climb out, a wide, blissful smile on his face as he starts to walk toward him.

* * *

_**And to know that you are loved in return.** _

* * *

There. Charles thinks. There he is. There’s a bright grin on Erik’s face as he walks closer. Charles feels such love for this man, hoping it shows in his face. He feels like he’s about to burst with happiness. He can’t remember, now, why he had stayed away. This is exactly what he needs. What he wants. He walks closer, wanting to run and throw himself into his arms, but also wanting to savor this moment. The moment when they’ve found each other again. They’re so close now, almost together, then his vision wavers.

* * *

Charles is almost in his arms again. He’s almost close enough to touch now, Erik keeps thinking. They’re almost there. He sees Charles blink rapidly, confusion in his face. Erik’s smile lessens. What’s wrong? Is something wrong with Charles? Then his vision blurs and he almost stumbles. No, he thinks, not now. We’re almost there. We’re too close for this to happen now.

* * *

He can see that it’s affecting Erik too. There’s a terrible fear on his face as he blinks at Charles. He thinks Erik must be trying to clear his vision, he’s just done the same. His vision wavers again, this time for a few seconds longer. No, Charles denies, not yet. Not yet. His vision starts to grow dark along the edges and he lunges.

* * *

Erik sees Charles move suddenly, throwing himself forward, arms reaching out toward him. Erik lurches forward to catch him, arms reaching just as his vision dims and then goes dark.

* * *

 


	6. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men or Perfect Sense.

* * *

 TOUCH

* * *

  _**The darkness is here now. No one is able to see the wonders offered by the world now.** _

* * *

 Charles can feel Erik’s arms around him, pulling him close. He can feel his breath on his face. He runs his hands along the strong arms holding him, up along biceps, along those broad shoulders. He runs fingers lightly up Erik’s neck to cradle those cheeks in his hands. They’re wet with tears. He can see it in his mind. He can imagine how they look together. He tilts his head up, running his lips along Erik’s jaw until he reaches his lips. He drinks from those lips. It’s like they’re the only ones left in the world.

* * *

  _**If there had been anybody left to see them, they would look like any other pair of lovers. Caressing each other's faces tenderly, bodies pressed close together, eyes closed as if to shut out the rest of the world. So focused are they on each other that they are oblivious  to the world around them.** _

* * *

 Erik can feel tears against his cheeks, knows they belong to both him and Charles. Even knowing he will never see again, will never see Charles again, he feels content. He can imagine his face, his eyes. He’d spent what feels like forever memorizing those features, this touch. He can feel laughter bubble from him, knows Charles can feel it from the rumbling in his chest. He can feel the answering smile against his lips, and he can feel happy. Happy that they're here. Together.

* * *

  _**Because that is how life goes on.** _

* * *

 


End file.
